The Doctor's Office
by MoonGoddessShadow
Summary: After a Doctor with a familiar face and a big blue box enter Pam's life, her world is turned upside-down. Hand in hand with one man she'd follow to the ends of the universe, she's finding life, love and adventure in ways she never knew existed. Jam.
1. Dwightlek I: Close Encounters

Disclaimer: I don't own The Office. Same goes for Doctor Who. I really wish I owned John Krasinski and David Tennant, but you can't have it all, I guess... Also, I don't own Precious Moments. Blech.

Author's Note: I'm not entirely sure where this idea spawned from. Maybe it after rewatching old Office episodes soon after discovering my obsession with Doctor Who. I dunno. But it's been a fun story to write, and it shouldn't be too long. Just a handful of chapters. Sorry for anyone who likes Precious Moments. Too sickly sweet for me. I did own a Precious Moments Bible at one point, though. It was a Christmas gift from my overly religious grandparents. It has since found its way to a box in my basement. Anyway, enjoy.

* * *

Five-thirty on a Thursday afternoon, and she was still there. Almost everyone else had left half an hour ago, save for Michael, Dwight and herself. Both men were finishing up on the day's paperwork, much like she'd been doing when the five o'clock hour had struck. Now she was just finishing up a particularly good game of solitaire before she too left.

"Good night Pam," she heard Michael say, drawing her attention away from the game and onto his mad grin. She knew what was coming next. "Paminator, Pam-a-lama-ding-dong, Pamaliscious definicious boo-"

"Good night, Michael," she replied firmly, cutting him off before it got any worse. Refusing to let his energy or smile falter, he gave her an attempt at a suave goodbye, which she only responded to with a forced smile. Waiting a minute for delayed laughter, he finally gave in and gave her one last, normal goodbye before exiting the office for the night and leaving only her and Dwight in the room.

Moving the final card into place, Pam took a minute to enjoy the eruption of digital cards across the screen before shutting down her computer for the night. She grabbed her purse from under her desk as silently as possible, praying Dwight would be too caught up in paperwork to notice her bid for escape. Just as every other night like this one turned out, she had no such luck.

"Going home?" he inquired, not looking away from his computer screen. Like almost everything else that came out of his mouth, it seemed more like a demand than the simple question it was. The brunette nodded slowly, now caught in his inquisition. "Why?"

"It's five-thirty. We were all allowed to leave half an hour ago." His scrutinizing gaze moved sharply, now hanging on her disdainfully.

"Don't you have calls to log and faxes to send out?" Inwardly, she rolled her eyes.

"Dwight, there were three calls today, and one was a mis-dial for the Dominoes down the street."

"And I'm sure corporate would like to know why you spent an otherwise unregistered thirty-three seconds of valuable time on the phones," he stated, attempting to sound as authoritative as possible. She could've laughed just then, but the few social graces she upheld around him still stood strong. Besides, she knew from experience that it could only get more interesting from here.

"You're right, Dwight," she managed, a small smile cracking through her calm veneer. "I'll log it as soon as I get in tomorrow morning." Not the response he was looking for, he stared at her with disgust.

"You're useless, Beesly. I'm exterminating this conversation." Oh, now she couldn't help herself.

"Exterminating it?" she repeated, eyebrows raised as she smiled, bemused.

"Exterminate," he stated, no-nonsense. His gaze dropped back to his computer accordingly, and she decided to continue on as normal, as if Dwight's strangeness didn't exist, as if he was just another normal co-worker like Phyllis or Toby. _Or Jim,_ her mind added absently. He was nice and normal, at least by her standards. That, of course, was under the assumption that everyone played pranks on their insane coworkers and took their girlfriend to the carnival that had just rolled through town, only to get thrown out for infuriating a clown. What a night that had been.

"Good night, Dwight. Don't stay too long," she said pleasantly, opening the door and walking out. The last thing she heard as it clicked shut was Dwight's intoned, "Exterminate," sending her into a fit of repressed giggles.

The elevator ride down was uneventful, as most elevator rides are, as was the short trip through the lobby. Usually, walking out of the office complex was like a sigh of relief to her, but tonight it felt wrong. On the ride down, she'd been able to laugh off Dwight's idiosyncrasies. Now they just seemed strange, even for him.

Pulling her cardigan closer around her, she added an extra burst of speed to her walk across the parking lot. Acutely aware of everything around her, she caught the sound of the decorative stones near the front doors being jostled by something heavy hitting them, and quickened her pace as best as she could in heels. She reached her small car in record time, fumbling with the automatic unlock. Something was definitely wrong here. She never panicked, not like this. This felt real, completely unlike the terror she'd felt when Roy had made her go see Saw along with him and his brother. There was a presence in the air, a charge of energy, and it felt ominous.

Finally hearing the satisfying 'beep beep' that meant her doors were no longer locked, she breathed an overdue sigh of relief and opened the door, glancing up. Her eyes were intended for the fading daylight of the sky, but they never made it that far. Breath catching in her throat, she was met with the sight of Dwight on the other side of her car, staring her down mercilessly. There was something inherently wrong with this whole situation, but for a moment, she relaxed slightly, the shock fading. Only Dwight. Not a big deal.

"Jesus," she murmured, shaking her head. "What was that for? You nearly scared me to death." She paused hesitantly. Since Beach Day, she'd tried to be more vocal about what she was thinking, but this was just creepy. He hadn't moved a muscle yet. "How'd you get down here so fast? You weren't on the elevator with me."

Only one word left his mouth: "Exterminate."

Suddenly, he was on the roof of her car, and she was again terrified, more so now than she had ever been. The psychotic gleam in his eyes, the only display of emotion in his otherwise stoic face, was absolutely inhuman, and it drilled into her with furious intent. In the few empty seconds he spent perched on her roof, she could feel only her own dread of what was to follow, the primal fear that a rabbit feels just before a wolf clamps down around its small body, and then the cool hand that slipped into her own, bringing a much needed calmness to her mental state. Her eyes rose to meet that crooked smile, even though she already knew who it was, and suddenly everything felt alright again. Maybe Dwight wasn't some sort of freak engrossed in exterminating her, and maybe there wasn't that strange electric charge in the air that made everything feel alive and dangerous.

"Hi," she said, hushed. She smiled sweetly, and he returned it with his own.

"Hi," Jim replied. Maybe it was the manic edge to his single word or the excited glimmer in his brown eyes, but she was instantly pulled back into their insane reality, and that was only the beginning. "Now run!"

She did exactly as she was told, breaking into a dead run with him in the lead. They wove through the parking lot, careful not to bump into the few remaining cars as they deftly avoided the closely following Dwight.

"What the hell is going on?" Pam demanded, letting a rare curse word slip out. Jim didn't look back, only tightening his grip on her hand.

"Long story," he muttered. That wasn't enough for her, despite the dire situation.

"What's going on with Dwight? Why does he keep saying 'exterminate?'" She swore she could almost hear him let out a sigh.

"Even longer story." Abruptly, he came to a stop, nearly sending her crashing into him. Glancing back, she saw the frightening figure of Dwight, more realistically frightening than disturbing-frightening now, advancing on them and felt a whoosh of air on the back of her neck, as if Jim had opened something. She looked back just in time to catch a glimpse of a tall blue structure, 'Police Public Call Box' emblazoned near the top, and then she was whisked inside.

The door swung shut behind her, but she hardly noticed, too caught up in the interior of what she thought was a small blue box, not the massive room she now stood in. It had a warm, organic feel to it, with patches of yellow and orange blending seamlessly throughout the nigh-luminescent walls, while at the same time feeling high-tech, hexagonal metal plates aligned in rows of two up and down the very same walls. The floor was made up of perfectly welded grates, suspending them above the smaller space below them. The smaller room itself was blocked off by bars standing perpendicular to the flooring in even increments and connected by bars parallel the floor, all to prevent a sudden descent to the lower level. One set of stairs led to the lower level, though she could see that some grates could be moved if necessary. Thick, curved pillars spanned from the grated floor to the domed ceiling, meeting around the most unnatural part of the whole room, aside from the floor.

In the exact center was a tarnished metal console, all sorts of controls poking out of its clear paneling, including something that closely resembled a bicycle pump. The console seemed to be built around a clear tube reaching from ceiling to floor that contained a pump of sorts, humming with a soft blue glow from within, just as the paneling did.

Too enthralled by the not-so-small blue box, she didn't notice that Jim had left her side. He was now hastily moving around the console, playing with the random buttons and levers almost expertly. Dancing through her line of vision, he inadvertently snapped her back to reality and drew out the questions overflowing in her mind.

"Seriously, Jim, what's going on? What is all this? What's a Police Public Call Box? How is it so much bigger on the inside? And what are you doing?" Not looking up at her, he let out a small smile.

"All great questions, really," he said, flicking a switch, "but now is not a good time. Gimme a minute." As if to emphasize his point, a thunderous banging erupted from behind her, sending the young receptionist skittering forward in shock. She turned sharply to peer out the opaque windows placed high on the only entrance to wherever they were now and was met by the distinctly parted hairdo of her coworker. It was none other than Dwight pounding on the door with such ferocity. _What_ was going on?

"Please, please work," Jim pleaded with the console, cranking an old wheel in desperate circles. "Don't fail me now. Not now of all times." Almost dejectedly, the pump within the central column began to move up and down, the blue glow becoming brighter with each motion. A metallic whirring sound accompanied it just moments later, echoing through the room. The incessant noise of Dwight's pounding became softer and softer until it had vanished entirely; only the whirring could be heard now, along with Jim's relieved sigh as he all but collapsed onto the console. His unkempt hair, let to once again fall freely since his breakup with Karen, hid the parts of his face not already buried in his encircled arms, but somehow she knew he was smiling. She wasn't sure how; she just knew. When he didn't move, not one bit, for almost a minute, her concern for him overrode her worries of what was going on here and she moved closer to him, heels clanking quietly on the metal floor. She placed a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she inquired. Finally, for what felt like the first time in an eternity, he looked at her, his small, crooked smile plastered so endearingly over his features.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just glad this thing decided to work in time. It's been really temperamental since -" A hand went to the side of his head as he stopped himself. "Never mind. Hurts my brain." She gave him a worried look.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He nodded. "Good. So what exactly are we in right now? Because I'm not going to lie, I'm more than a little freaked out." His smile grew.

"You get used to it," he replied, adding with a very Jim glance off into the nonexistent distance, "after a while." She giggled and he met her eyes again, wanting to just look into them forever. For all he knew now, he could.

After a moment, he realized he was staring and he still hadn't given her any real answers. She gave him her gorgeous little smile and he shook his head a bit as if to wake himself up properly, standing upright. Following his movements, she threw in an expectant look.

"Right," he blanched, glancing around himself in an attempt to find a good place to start before looking back at her and clapping his hands together. "We're on the TARDIS. That stands for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It's sort of a time machine space ship." Pam gave him a small, incredulous look.

"We're on a time machine space ship," she repeated, a twinge of doubt in her eyes. "How'd you manage to come across one shaped like a big blue box?" He smiled vaguely, shrugging.

"I didn't find it. It found me. Just kinda showed up in my bedroom one day."

"Any reason why?"

"Long story." She raised an eyebrow.

"I think we have the time. We did escape Dwight, right?" He nodded. "Good. Then you have the time to tell me everything." He held up a halting finger.

"Only if Dwight can't find us. I couldn't send us through time, so he's still out there right now, looking for us."

"So your time machine can't travel through time?" she asked, a smile creeping onto her lips. She wasn't sure if she believed all of this yet. Never once had she been inclined to not trust Jim. He'd never lied to her before, and that wasn't mentioning Dwight's freakish display back there. On the other hand, this could all just be a dream from the safety of her desk. Oddly enough, she was actually hoping it was the former option.

Jim just sighed.

"She won't go through time for me yet. Just space. She hasn't quite warmed up to me. Besides, I think there's something important I have to deal with here, and Dwight doesn't help my suspicions."

"Yeah, what's wrong with him?"

"Oh, aside from the normal stuff?" he asked with a grin, drawing a matching one from her.

"Right. Like why he kept saying 'exterminate' or was chasing us down." Jim's grin faded a bit.

"I'm not sure how it's possible, but I think he's at least part Dalek. He's definitely acting like one. It doesn't really make sense, but it's the only way to explain it. At least his personality fits - he thinks everyone is inferior to him and he's willing to undermine anyone to get what he wants." He smiled slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. "It just doesn't make sense."

"Maybe I missed something here, but what's a Dalek?"

"Something you'll wish you'd never met," he answered, smile dropping from his features as he turned completely serious on a dime. "They're aliens that want to eliminate everything in the universe that isn't like them just because it's not like them. I can't count how many times they've tried to take over the Earth throughout history. They have a habit of repeating 'exterminate' over and over, too." She nodded slowly. Even if this was all a joke, or even a dream, it was really well thought out. Either Jim had put a lot of effort into this or her subconscious was a creative genius.

"So Dwight is one of these Dalek things?" Jim shook his head.

"Not entirely. If he was, he'd look sort of like a saltshaker with a plunger sticking out of it. That doesn't rule out crossbreeding, since they're technically organic beings, or even brainwashing, and those are still a stretch. I mean, Daleks absolutely hate humans. It's why they've been trying to kill them for ages." She could see he was getting irritated by just the thought of these Daleks, but she had a train of thought to chase.

"So these Dalek things are a race of alien super-soldier saltshakers?" Grinning, he nodded. "And Dwight is acting like one of them, even though he's obviously _not_ a giant killer saltshaker?" Again, nodding. "And you know they've been to Earth a lot?"

"Definitely." Okay, she was just going to run with it now.

"So what if it _was_ a sort of brainwashing? What if it was an experiment to make humans cannon fodder for an invasion? Armies of expendable soldiers ready when they needed them. It would cut down on the humans they'd have to take over, too." She stopped, hoping she was making sense and not just babbling, and looked for some sort of reassurance from him that it was at least a good attempt. All she received was an awed grin.

"I knew there was a reason I loved you," he said, placing a quick kiss on her forehead. "Knew there had to be something besides your smile."

"Hey!" she protested, crossing her arms over her chest even as she let out a smile. He laughed.

"Not to mention your sparkling personality, of course." She let her arms fall to her sides, openly beaming now, and he took a moment to enjoy it before returning to business. "It's a brilliant idea, though. Waves of programmed soldiers swarming their own kind. I hate complimenting Daleks, but, god, it's a genius idea. I'm disappointed I didn't think of it, though. I guess that's why they wanted me to find a good companion." Pam raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"Who's 'they?'"

"No one," he replied a little too nonchalantly, turning back to the console. "Anyway, it sounds like we've arrived." He reached out to check a small display, which flickered to life as he touched it. With a silent nod from the brunet, it was gone, and the whirring began to fade from the background. He turned back to her and smiled. "We're here." She tilted her head bin confusion

"We're where?"

"Your apartment. It took a bit longer than I expected, but she's got her own way of working. Never really know what you're going to get."

Her eyes doubtful, she said, "We're at my apartment? Did we bust down one of my walls to get in?" He grinned.

"Nope. Only a wall in space. The TARDIS just sort of appears and disappears where she wants to. Or, if we're lucky, where I want her to." Now, of all times, she gave him a true dubious look. He kept smiling. "Go look for yourself. I promise the doors don't bite." His expression softened to a thoughtful one. "Well, they haven't yet."

Instilled with so much confidence and belief by his words, she approached the tall blue doors, so oddly right in this strange jumble of organic and unnatural. They swung easily open when she pushed, revealing the living room of her apartment, barely lit by the fading sunlight of an early June night. It was all a rush of calm and familiarity around her, and she rushed out to prove that it was real, not just an illusion. As tranquil as Jim's presence had made her, this was the final necessary touch.

"We really are here," she murmured in awe, turning sharply and suddenly to Jim, who was leaning in the doorway of the TARDIS. "It's real. You really have a space ship." He gave a tiny smile and a nod.

"As real as Angela's Precious Moments Bible." She gave him a small, momentary grin, dropping it for a more serious expression a moment later.

"So are you an alien?" she ventured, voice quieter now. "I mean, most humans don't have their own spaceships, let alone ones shaped like blue police boxes that can just appear wherever they want." He nodded vaguely, seeing the logic in her words, then looked her straight in the eye.

"Do you think I'm an alien?" he asked flatly. For a moment, he received no answer, only her eyes searching him over.

"I'm not sure," she finally admitted. "You look the same and all, but... All this Dalek and time travel and TARDIS stuff–it's way more than any human would know. You even know how to fly your ship. I just--I don't know. I don't know if you're really an alien or not." She paused, gauging his expression, then asked again, "So are you?" He glanced down at his feet, a vague smile forming on his lips, and his eyes drifted back up to meet hers.

"Honestly?" he asked rhetorically. "I don't know either. I don't know what I am anymore. I'm not an alien, not in a 'I landed here from another galaxy' sort of way, but I can't say that I'm entirely human anymore, either." She gave him a questioning look, and he sighed. "It's hard to explain. Listen, are you doing anything on your lunch break tomorrow?" She shook her head. "Good. I'll try to explain it all to you then, okay? Until then, I've got to do some research on this whole Dwight thing." She smiled.

"Got it. Lunch tomorrow. You can tell me all about your non-alienness and fill me in on whatever's going on with our bespectacled friend."

"It's a date," he replied, beaming at her. She moved next to him, standing on her tiptoes to place a quick peck on his lips. When she came back down, his smile had grown impossibly larger and he could barely contain himself. "God, I love you."

"I know," she responded, grinning back at him. "I love you too. Try not to let our Dwight-lek kill you in your sleep."

"I'll try. Good night."

"Night." She turned away, heading for her bedroom.

"Wait, Pam," he said, making her pause and look back. He was more somber now. "Act normal at work tomorrow. I'm not sure how much Dwight will remember."

"Aye, aye, captain," she replied with a faux salute. He laughed softly.

"Good, but I prefer doctor," he shot back, slipping into the TARDIS for a second before hanging his head back out the door. "Night, Pam." And like that, he was gone, door swinging shut behind him. Just a few moments later, the light mounted on top of the blue box began flashing, accompanied by the metallic whirring. It took only a few seconds after that for it to begin fading away, and it was completely gone in a couple more. All that was left was Pam in her living room, staring at where the TARDIS had been.

"Night, Jim."


	2. Dwightlek II: Mind Tricks

Author's Note: I realize that most Office fans have probably never seen Doctor Who, or would be interested in it if they did. I'm doing my best to write this in a way so people from both fandoms can understand what's going on. As it is, this chapter evolved into a Jammy Mr. Exposition, with a bit of plot advancement squeezed in. I promise it'll get more interesting after this. Oh, and sorry about the time between updates. My creative muses are a bit lax sometimes.

* * *

So far, today had been normal, almost disturbingly so. Pam had arrived at her regular time, just before nine to get the coffee going, and Jim showed up when he always did, a leisurely ten after nine. Michael, perennially and purposely late ("The coolest kids are always the last ones to the party," he'd once claimed), was of course the last one in, making his obligatory jokes that no one felt obligated to laugh at, save for Andy and Dwight. They'd all settled into the comfortable air of typing and taking, or making, the occasional call.

Watching the normality of the day, Pam was beginning to question whether or not last night had actually happened. It just seemed too average a day to follow such a weird night. How could everybody go about their business when there were two almost-alien people working with them? It was just too absurd to comprehend. As far as she knew, she'd just drunk one too many hard lemonades after work last night, though she couldn't even remember driving home. Sure, Dwight kept giving her and Jim peculiar looks, but that could just be his usual strangeness. Nothing new. Her life wasn't anything out of the ordinary, and aliens would definitely not choose Scranton, Pennsylvania, of all places. Why here, when there were so many other places in the world that were so much more interesting?

Something in her refused to believe her excuses, though. She remembered everything with startling clarity, down to how hard her heart thudded against her chest. It was just too vivid to be an alcohol-induced dream, and she knew it. Besides, she was willing to let a little excitement into her life, even if it could be a sci-fi nightmare, as long as Jim was there next to her.

"Earth to Beesly," rang a voice through her thoughts, pulling her mind out of the clouds. She suddenly realized that Jim was leaning on the reception desk directly in front of her, an amused smile on his lips. Her heart fluttered a bit to see him there, standing just as he had before Casino Night, before he'd moved to Stamford. It took a mantra of mental reminders to reaffirm that they were indeed past that now, and moreover, finally happy with each other.

"I'm sorry, what?" she said, realizing he'd said more than just that to her. He just shook his head in faux disappointment.

"I was saying that if you'll go get our lunches, I'll tell Michael we're going to eat outside." She raised an eyebrow.

"Why outside?"

"It's way more private out there than in here. Can't let intergalactic secrets slip to the general populace, especially not Dwight." He paused, glancing thoughtfully at Dunder Mifflin's Quality Assurance manager, who was busy clipping his toenails. "Or Creed." She smiled, knowing that any knowledge in Creed's hands was generally not a good thing, even if he'd forgotten it by the next day. "Besides," he added, "it's a gorgeous day, and we ought to enjoy it."

"You got me," she ceded, smiling up at him. "I'll get our lunches. You talk to Michael." Sympathy graced her smile. "Good luck. Try to keep it short."

"Can't promise a thing," he replied, walking a reserved march over to their boss's office and opening the door with the hesitance they had all come to know. As soon as she heard the fate-sealing 'click' of the door shutting, she stood up, smoothed down her skirt and headed for the break room fridge to retrieve their meals.

Unless this was the most complex hangover dream she–or any other human, for that matter--had ever experienced, or Jim was somehow in on her absurd fantasies, last night was completely real. Honestly, the idea really didn't sound too bad to her. Maybe it was just the lack of excitement in her life, but she really liked the feeling of running for her life and the idea of seeing the world, let alone the stars. She'd take a murderous, part-alien coworker attacking her and her part-alien coworker-cum-boyfriend over spending a quiet night at home watching whatever was on tv any day. Of course, she'd take both over explaining to Michael the innocent reasons why two romantically involved adults wanted to leave the building during their lunch hour. Right now, she really felt for Jim.

* * *

"Niiice," Michael grinned as Jim finished explaining. "Getting yourself some afternoon delight, huh? Score one for the guys!" Inwardly, Jim rolled his eyes. His boss had taken his renewed friendship with Pam as a sign that they were romantically involved (which was entirely true, but no one needed to know that so soon), and therefore assumed it was his God-given right to make lewd comments about the two of them. Jim let it go, if only because Michael was just Michael.

"No," he said patiently, dropping into the slow tone of voice usually reserved for a child who was acting out. "We just want some fresh air, and the tables just got put up for the summer." Michael glanced out the window, fully expecting to see a camera he could give a suggestive look to, but looked back at Jim with the dregs of said look on his face a moment later. There was no camera to mug for, seeing as the crew's schedule was much lighter during the summer. It gave them time to review footage and see if they wanted to keep the documentary going. Alternately, it provided the office workers with a bit of a reprieve, not having to give interviews every day or watch what they were doing.

"Go get her, kiddo," the black-haired man responded, grinning like a loon and obviously still attached to the idea that they were going to have sex in the parking lot. Jim just put on his best appreciative smile and left, meeting Pam by the elevator.

"I take it you had a fun time," she said when she saw his expression, a mix of irritation and relief.

"Oh, you know," he replied, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Just Michael."

"Par for course, then?" He grinned.

"Oh, definitely. Thought I was going to score in the parking lot." She wrinkled her nose disgustedly, a light blush creeping onto her cheeks nonetheless. The idea wasn't unwanted, but in a parking lot... Ick. Not at all romantic, but exactly what Michael would imagine. She held his lunch out for him, and he took it appreciatively, smiling at her grimace. "Yeah, that's what I thought. And thanks." It was her turn to grin.

"Any time." The elevator dinged, doors opening smoothly for them, and they crossed through the main entryway to the double doors, freedom just beyond them. Outside, they made the difficult decision of which of the two identical tables to sit at in the small, grassy courtyard, before choosing the closer of the two.

"Care to sit?" Jim asked, holding a hand out to Pam. She smiled and took his proffered hand, sitting down and making sure her skirt was properly positioned. He followed suit opposite her, setting down his lunch. As they finally settled in, she smiled lightly.

"So let's hear it, Mr. Sort-Of Alien. Time to explain." For a moment, he didn't respond, pulling a banana out of his lunch sack and peeling it gingerly. As he bit into it, he gave her a broad smile.

"Gotta love bananas. All that protein." She just waited as he finished it, a small, wry smile on her face. He sat the now empty peel down on the table and added, "Now, what do you want to know first? My non-alienness, right?" She nodded; he glanced away momentarily and then straight into her pale blue orbs. "It's kind of strange," he stated, but she only smiled back at him.

"Stranger than last night?"

"Well, no," he ceded, "but only because Dwight's a Dalek." Shaking his head disbelievingly, he gazed up into the clear blue sky and smiled vaguely before looking back to Pam. "So, anyway, explanations." He paused for a moment, scratching behind his ear before launching into what could be a very lengthy explanation. "Well, it all kind of happened about two weeks ago. I got home from work, had a beer or two, crashed early. I fell asleep pretty easy, even had some weird dreams–ones with meat monsters hanging from the ceiling, green guys worshiping a sea monster, some old guys calling me Theta–you know, the usual stuff.

"Next day I woke up earlier than usual, early enough to be at work on time, and there were a bunch of voices talking around me. I just thought Mark was playing a dumb joke on me. He does that sometimes, even though he's got a new roomie. I thought he'd just got himself in and brought a bunch of friends to bother me, so I stumbled out into the living room and there's no one there. I can still hear all the voices clear as day, though, and they're following me around. That's when I realized they were talking to me. One laughs at me and says it's about time I caught on. I ask it what's going on and it - What?" he suddenly asked, noticing her bemused smile. She just shook her head.

"You were in your boxers in your living room talking to the voices in your head. I'm just trying to imagine it."

"I'm glad my disturbing, life-altering event is amusing to you," he deadpanned, cracking a smile despite himself a moment later.

"Just get on with it," she said, taking a sip of her cola.

"Fine. After it laughed some more at me, another voice chimed in and told me it was the Doctor. They were all the Doctor. All thirteen of them."

"Thirteen voices in your head and they all have the same name?"

"No, thirteen voices in my head and they're all the same person. I told you it was strange," he added, seeing her furrowed brow. "See, the Doctor was an alien - called himself a Time Lord - who regenerates instead of dying. Time Lords get twelve regenerations plus their original body, and the Doctor was dying in his thirteenth incarnation. He knew that the universe still needed him, so he tried this risky little trick he learned on Xybria. All Time Lords are naturally a little bit psychic, so it wasn't too hard, and he had nothing to really lose." Pam smiled, an eyebrow raised.

"So you're telling me that this Doctor–he what, projected himself into you?" He smiled.

"Yeah, something like that," he replied, laughing a bit. "Basically, instead of leaving a body behind and just passing on, he faded away, into the best–and closest–person." A wide, closed mouth smile crossed his lips. "That'd be me."

"Oh, you don't say?" He shot her a wry smile.

"Oh, but I do. I was just the right guy for the job, apparently. Well, this close to New York. Don't know about the rest of the world. I'm sure he would've liked to stay British." Ignoring what was likely to otherwise become a long tangent, Pam pressed on with the main subject.

"So he just jumped into your head while you slept?"

"Yeah," he said simply, eating a chip from her bag. "He said it was easier for my mind to process a couple thousand years of information if he did while I slept, and that it wouldn't be quite as bad for my entire body. Thought if he did it while I was awake, my DNA would scramble or my head would explode, or something like that. I'm really hoping the last part was just a joke." Pam laughed at the slight absurdity of the idea.

"Jim, I really don't think information overload can make your head explode." He arched his eyebrows, a faint grin on his lips.

"A couple of weeks ago, I didn't think aliens existed, and now I'm sort of one of them. What's possible and what isn't is kind of vague right now."

"But exploding heads are just crazy. I think it'd just turn you into a vegetable." She paused, a playful grin creeping onto her lips. God, he loved it. "Maybe literally." As he rolled his eyes, she laughed.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Beesly," he muttered, glancing out at the open sky. They'd have to see it from orbit sometime.

"Any time," she replied, a cheery smile adorning her features. "So this Doctor was a couple thousand years old?"

"Something like that. He said he was about 1,900 when he died," Jim supplanted, removing his sandwich from the baggie it was so nicely stored in and taking a bite out of it. Looking at it a bit closer, Pam furrowed her brow.

"What, no ham and cheese?" He glanced down at his food and grinned ambiguously.

"I like to mix it up sometimes. How do you think I got the name Big Tuna?" She smiled back at him faintly, disappointed with herself for not noticing until now. It only reinforced how far apart they'd grown after he left, and even after the merger. She knew it was dumb to feel this way when they were just as close–no, _closer_–now, and she anchored herself to the joy she felt with him. Almost instantly, she felt a hundred times better, and flashed a brighter smile at him.

"I guess I just thought Andy was crazy," she admitted. "At least I know I was right, and not just because of the nickname." He smiled broadly at her.

"Crazy is relative. There are a lot worse things out there than people who punch holes in walls. Andy always _could_ be one of them, though," he mused. "Maybe a leftover Sycorax or something." He shook his head, wavering, and smiled up at her. "This whole thing's a bit crazy, you know? This life he leads–I lead–is insane, and I think you have to be a bit crazy just to survive. The Doctor saw things that would destroy anybody else, but he kept going and even enjoyed it. After last night, I think I like it, too. Until then, it was just this weird little fact, this extra set of people to bug me, but now that I've really seen firsthand what this life is like, I don't know if I could ever go back. Pushing paper just seems so boring compared to fighting against Slitheen or for Arcadia."

He laughed softly to himself.

"God, sometimes I scare myself. I have 1,900 years of experience with a universe that's way bigger than most humans will ever know just floating around in my head, and I don't even know it's there. It just comes to me like I've always known it."

"Is that how you know how to fly the TARDIS so well?"

"Yup. It just sort of came to me. Same goes for all the stuff about Daleks. It's all just been tossed into my head for when I need it. It's really weird, knowing all of this at once, but not realizing everything I know. I have all these memories of places I've never been to, of people I've never met. Take Rose Tyler–she traveled with him for a few years and ended up stuck in an alternate dimension a little over a year ago. It hasn't been that long for her, but for him it was almost a thousand years, and he never really got over her. The thing is, I'm him now. I'm just the new Doctor with a new face, a new personality._ I_ never really got over her. It hurts to think about her, but I've never actually met her."

He shook his head sadly, and Pam could only listen as he seemed to slowly spiral into further unhappiness. "I don't know what to do with myself. I'm not sure how much of me is still me and how much is him. I don't know if I'm going to live forever, if I could read your mind right now." That gave Pam an idea, a way to raise Jim from the melancholy he was sinking into.

"Why don't you give it a try?" she proposed, leaning closer to him. From this close, she could see little flecks of gold around his irises. Had those always been there? They were captivatingly gorgeous. Of course, so was everything else about him, even the resigned sigh he gave her when he saw she was serious.

"If you say so. Lean in a little closer to me." She obliged without a word, coming so close to him that she could feel his breath on her lips, warm and inviting even in the increasing June heat. As he placed his fingertips gently on her temples, she closed her eyes and he added, "I'm not even sure this'll work, you know."

"If you really want to chicken out now, I promise I won't think too much less of you," she responded, going straight for his pride in the most ribbing, deadpan-but-honest way possible. It was the best way to get him to do something, she'd found.

"You wound me so," he replied in mock hurt, and she knew she'd got him. Closing his eyes, he took in a long breath. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." He exhaled slowly.

"Here goes." In an increasingly familiar burst of knowledge, exactly what to do filled his mind. Just following what he felt like he'd known for thousands of years, he gently pushed on the edges of her mind, a wave of excitement rippling over him as he fell through. To feel it for the first time was a shock, like the ride at the amusement park that dropped you hundreds of feet straight down, and it knocked the air right out of him.

For a moment, Pam tensed, eventually relaxing as she got used to the foreign feeling. Eyes closed, she didn't expect to see anything, but in her mind she could very clearly see a door and feel Jim's hesitance to go through it, and she knew instinctively that it was the door to her mind.

"Go ahead," she nudged, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. Quietly, he did so, turning the golden doorknob and stepping into her mind. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen, but in retrospect, he'd known he should've expected as much. The room he stood in was a studio of sorts, clean but messy, with white walls and bright, sunny windows belying the smears of paint on the floor and dirty bits of charcoal laying on the random tables. Finished pieces of art, done in varied mediums, sat on easels scattered across the room, though some did have the luck to be hanging on the clean walls. Each one was of a moment in her life, and they came to life when he was close enough, depicting what happened through her own eyes.

Moving into the room beyond, which was followed by another room, and another after that one, continuing for who knows how long, he murmured, "If there's anything you don't want me to see, just imagine a big canvas over it and I'll stay away."

"There's nothing I want to hide from you," she replied softly. Though she couldn't see it, he smiled at her trust, a thin wisp of a smile.

Again he passed into another room, glancing at the works that were just a few of the defining moments of her teenage years, and then moved into the room beyond. He worked his way through dozens of rooms, all highlighting her life for all its ups and downs, until he reached the first one containing her memories of Dunder Mifflin. Most of these, when not displaying the general monotony, were of their conversations and the many pranks they'd pulled on Dwight. One out of many, though, easily caught his eye: a bright oil pastel drawing of a single stapler held perfectly aloft, albeit slightly crooked, in the center of a Jell-O mold. Chuckling at the memory, he moved on a minute later to things more recent.

In the next room, he passed renditions of a few of their better work days, like when Dwight chose their health care plan (Jim was still pondering how to use a love of Count Chocula against him) or when he'd died of boredom and was concurrently resurrected by the office Olympics. Of course, he saw a few of the harder days, too; the Booze Cruise and Casino Night stuck out in particular.

Seeing the latter, he paused, giving it reason to come alive. The entire night flew past his eyes until it reached those few, critical moments; they were in the parking lot, he was admitting his love for her, she was flustered and shocked, and hardly knew what to say, but managed to turn him down, telling him that she couldn't, more of a reassertion to herself than a statement to him. He could tell the revelation had just as difficult for her as it had been for him, now that he saw it from her point of view.

Fast forward, and now she was in the office, on the phone with her mom; he slipped in silently and she quickly told her mom she had to go. She started to say something, and then he pulled her into it, that brief, passionate kiss, and she gave in. It ended all too soon, leaving both wanting more, and he was telling her how long he'd wanted to do that. Lost in the moment, she agreed, unable to deny herself when she knew what she really wanted. No, he wasn't drunk; neither was she. Her mind could make excuses it didn't believe all it wanted. They almost kissed again, but she stopped it. He wanted to know if she was really going to marry Roy. She barely moved, and her silence became the steadfast rejection that was enough to make him leave.

Physically, he could feel Pam recoil a bit, obviously reliving the same memory.

"I'm so sorry," he said quickly, navigating away from it to avoid any more discomfort.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago. Things were different back then. I was confused." He smiled absently, nodding slightly, and moved into the most recent studio. Most vivid among the dull grey images of their average work day were those of last night, of their desperate flee from Dwight. More impressive than even those, though, was of their departing words within her apartment. In the doorway of the TARDIS, which alone seemed to emanate power and beauty, he stood stunningly, his hair ruffled from the escape and his tie slightly askew. Only part of her only face was visible, drawn from a third person point of view, but what he could see was eternally made into a brilliant smile, giving her a goddess-like radiance, in his opinion.

He could actually feel the heat that rose to her cheeks in a heavy blush as she heard his thoughts.

"Oh, don't be so modest," he said, smiling. "You're gorgeous. I just don't tell you enough." Aside from a deepened blush, she had no physical response, only the slight mental push in the direction of something new. He allowed her to direct him, almost smelling the fresh that wafted around the room as the new work came into view.

At first, he was confused - this one was different from the others. It was just a bright red cartoon heart, though very meticulously done. He watched it long enough for it to come alive, revealing what it represented. His confusion was quickly alleviated by the realization that it was indeed different from the others, being not a memory, but a thought, an emotion.

_It doesn't matter who you are, Jim. I love you._

It was her voice resounding around his mind, drawing an unbidden smile to his lips. He opened his eyes slowly, savoring the echoing words and letting his hands drop away from Pam's face. Her eyes opened as well, a tender smile gracing her features.

"Thank you," he said quietly. She only smiled and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

"Alien or not, you're mine. We've both waited long enough, and this isn't going to get in the way."

"God, I love you," he stated, in awe of how he finally managed to get such a perfect woman.

"I know," she replied, smiling. "Now, did you find anything out about our little Dwight-lek?"

"Well, Han," he answered, a sarcastic drawl to the last word, "I did manage to find something. It's not much, but sometime in the late eighties, before the Time War, there was an upsurge in Dalek activity on Earth. That's not really saying much, seeing as they only attacked Earth only during the eighties, and that was in eighty-four, and Daleks aren't exactly common on Earth, anyway. Any activity is usually a spike. What I'm basically thinking is that you were right: a few Daleks came to Earth, found some humans that fit their criteria and sort of programmed them to respond to certain things so they could be called to action when the time was right."

"So they'd always be ready for an intergalactic war, but never know it until it came." Jim nodded.

"Perfect for the front lines, ready to be picked off without consequence. For some reason, this invasion obviously never happened, and they just went on with life. My money's on the Time War." Pam gave him a quizzical look, but pretended he hadn't seen it, pressing on. "I think something in your conversation with him triggered his programming by accident. That's why he attacked you. He targeted you as the enemy. Course, he'd probably target any human as an enemy. It's all part of being Dalek." Something occurred to her.

"How'd you know to come get me?" she asked, curious. He gave her his patented smile-head shake combo, glancing to the side briefly before looking back at her.

"It was all the TARDIS. She started freaking out on me, so I just flew it. The coordinates were already in it; I just had to push the buttons and pull the levers. I was kinda surprised when I walked out into the lobby, but then I heard the commotion and I knew I had to help whoever it was. It being you was just a plus." She smiled sweetly, still inquisitive.

"So how did the TARDIS know to come get me?"

"It just sort of gets inside your head, you know? Knows what's going on with you while it keeps a watch on everything. It probably picked up on the spike in Dalek energy and knew you were there too, so it just did what it had to do." She raised an eyebrow.

"So, what? It's in my head right now?" He nodded, giving her a small smile.

"Probably." Her look changed slightly, intrigued and a bit shocked, but he only smiled. "Try it. When we go back inside, try watching a video in Spanish or reading a German website. It'll all be in perfect English. I guarantee it." Now she smiled.

"I'm going to hold you to that, you know," she replied, gesturing menacingly at him with a chip before eating it. He grinned back at her.

"Oh really? I'd better watch my back, then. Wouldn't want to be ambushed by, what? Five and a half feet? Yeah, I'm shaking in my loafers." Before he could react, she'd smacked his shoulder.

"Don't be a smart aleck. I don't care how many lives you have or what kind of human-alien hybrid you are." He glanced between her and his shoulder, pouty.

"Two thousand years of life, and I still let women control me. You'd think I'd have learned by now." Stealing one of his fries, she smiled.

"Nah. We're just too much help. You can't let us go."

"I know, I know," he ceded. "Where would I be without my clever girls?" He paused, shaking his head. "I'm starting to sound like him now."

"You sound fine to me," Pam said lovingly, cutting him off from what could otherwise become another descent into despair. "Now come on. Lunch is over, and we don't need to work up Dwight any more than usual today." She stood up and packed away the leftovers of her lunch, waiting as he did the same. Taking his hand, they went back into the building to finish their day of banality, completely unaware that someone was watching them.

Seated next to a second story window, Dwight had received the perfect overview of their entire conversation. If he concentrated hard enough, he could actually hear what they were saying. It was amazing, but he had to time to marvel. Something was compelling him to listen to their words, and how compelling they were. So Jim was this Doctor–something in him cringed at the name–and they thought he was part Dalek. Somehow, that felt right. He had no idea what a Dalek was, but no matter what was really going on, he knew two things: he liked what was happening to him, and this Doctor, Jim Halpert, had to die.


	3. Dwightlek III: Dinner and Destruction

A/N: Wow. Before I say anything else, I really want to thank you guys out there in Reviewer Land. You know those things are like crack! Anyway, this is where things start getting interesting. Yeah, there's some Jammy goodness at the beginning, but this whole story is chock full of random Jam, so... yeah. Oh, and I'm going to say now that action sequences have never been my forte, but I think I'm getting better. Being forced to write them (by myself, no less) kind of makes you get better.

* * *

"Just be ready at six."

That was the last thing Jim told her before he got into his car, and the only thing he'd tell her about what he had planned for tonight. Dutifully, she'd gone home and gotten ready, even going as far as to put on the red shirt Kelly had made her order online. She had no idea what they were doing, but she was sure it wasn't anything that involved running for her life. That didn't seem like something he would plan so much as something that just happened to him.

Now, she sat patiently in her living room, just as she had for the past ten minutes, watching for his car and awaiting the buzz to her apartment. At five minutes after six she was beginning to get antsy, but that was remedied in a timely way by the unexpected, though in no way unwanted, sound that filled the room. Turning around, she saw the TARDIS materializing in her living room, just behind the couch, and couldn't help but smile.

Once it was fully there, Jim opened the door to the ship and stepped out. In a black and blue striped button down top, sleeves rolled halfway up, and khakis, he seemed more alive than when he wore any of his work suits.

"Hey there," he said, a huge crooked smile on his lips. His eyes drifted over her body, smile only growing wider as he took in everything. "You look gorgeous." Under the husky compliment, she blushed.

"Thanks. Blame Kelly, I guess."

"I may have to reevaluate what I thought of Kelly," he murmured, meeting her eyes again. "Ready to go?"

"Of course," she answered, standing to join him. "So where are we going?" Smiling, he held the door open for her as she entered the TARDIS.

"Oh, just this great little place over in Tuscany. I thought we'd pop in there." Her eyes widened as he followed her in and closed the door, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and awe.

"Tuscany, Italy?" she asked incredulously, and he smiled at her reaction.

"Is there any other?" he retorted. "I mean, besides the one in California. And technically we'll be in Florence, but Tuscany just sounded so much cooler." She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but laugh a little.

"I get the picture. Now, are you going to fly this thing or not? There's a six or seven hour time difference between here and there, and I don't know how late Italian restaurants stay open." He chuckled softly, placing a kiss on her forehead as he passed her. The console was alight with a pale turquoise glow, the column humming with a similar shade of blue. She followed him halfway, leaning against a random bar to watch him work.

As he hovered over the controls, a strange look crossing his features, she couldn't help but smile at how the conflicting light from the walls and column endowed him with a sort of ethereal, ageless glow, like the Time Lord within him was bleeding through. It was ghostly and warm at the same time, and absolutely irresistible. She watched as he worked expertly at the controls, dodging the random clump of exposed wires to reach a lever or dial.

Something with the central column began to pulse, followed by the sound of the engines whirring to life, and the whole ship shook a bit as it began to vanish. Jim's work wasn't done though; he continued his dance around the controls, even beckoning for her to join him at one point.

"Just hold down that lever while I crank this wheel, okay?" he instructed, pointing to a tarnished lever just out of his reach. She obeyed, pushing down the bronze rod and giving him a questioning look.

"Why didn't you need help last time?" she asked, releasing it as he motioned for her to. He didn't look over at her, too preoccupied with making sure they materialized in the right place, but he let out a lopsided, sheepish grin.

"Short story? Because you looked bored." She grinned as he did. "Long story? It takes different controls at different times to get to different places. Different levers to make different turns, different buttons to go different directions, different wheels to leave different atmospheres... Et cetera. Going to Italy from here is different from going to your apartment from the office." She nodded.

"So what do you do when you have to fly from here to the end of the galaxy?" He pointed to a button, which she distractedly pressed, as he took a moment to glance at the display. The look on his face was one she couldn't quite place, somewhere between empty rage and barely contained grief.

"TARDISes were originally meant to be flown by half a dozen Time Lords. That's why there are so many controls." A curious little grin smothered whatever emotions he'd been feeling, but she knew without a doubt that they were still there under the mask, hidden by this perkier expression. "Without a full crew, it makes it a whole lot harder to, say, steal it from a junkyard." Despite what she'd seen on his face, she let out a short burst of laughter.

"Wait, wait - this thing's a junker?" He beamed proudly at her, all traces of the irregular emotions gone with her surprising joy.

"Wouldn't have it any other way. She's done more good work over the years than any other TARDIS that ever touched the Vortex. Now, I believe we've arrived," he stated, looking up at her with a grin. "Welcome to Tuscany."

Taking her hand, he led her out onto the street, still bustling with people despite the heavy late night darkness. Strands of light and the random street lamp lit up the area, casting a soft glow on everything. They didn't have to walk far, though Pam wouldn't have objected in such a lovely place, arriving at the fenced in terrace just down the street.

"Table for two, please," Jim said to the man at the gate, who nodded.

"Right this way, sir," he said, walking to the small section of still empty tables and directing them toward one next to a tall hedge. "Will this do?" The young salesman smiled.

"Yeah, it will. Grazie." The maitre'd nodded in response, laying two menus on the table and leaving the couple alone. Jim pulled a chair out and motioned to it. "For you, mio amore." Pam beamed and took her seat, waiting for Jim to sit down before replying.

"I didn't know you could be such a gentleman," she commented, "or that everyone in Italy could speak such perfect English." A look of confusion crossed his face, lasting only a moment until what she was referring to dawned on him and he smiled.

"They're not. It's all in Italian, even the guy who seated us." She gave him a funny look.

"I heard them speaking English, Jim." His smile only grew.

"Come on, Beesly. You've already forgotten? It's the TARDIS, inside your head, translating everything. Didn't you try watching a video in a different language?" She shook her head.

"Didn't get the chance to. Michael asked me to supervise his call with Jan." Jim winced.

"Ouch. A disaster?"

"Utter."

"Sorry. At least now you're getting a hands-on demonstration now. There aren't many languages she doesn't know." Oh, she was going to see.

"Mandarin?"

"Of course."

"Pig Latin?"

"Easily."

"Klingon?"

"Duh." She laughed.

"Okay, you got me. If it knows Klingon, then it knows them all." Jim just grinned.

"Oh, Klingon isn't even the worst of it. Wait until you hear Raxacoricofallapitorian." Her eyebrows raised incredulously, and he smiled at her. "I'm serious. It's one hell of a language untranslated. Imagine being in the middle of an interplanetary hostage situation and suddenly you can't understand what your only ally is saying because your translation matrix was temporarily scrambled by the planet's biggest solar flare on record, which just happened to coincide with your visit, and you only know three words in his language - please, help and banana." Pam smiled.

"You lead quite the life, Doctor."

"Tell me about it." For a moment, they exchanged grins, Pam breaking away first to look at her menu.

"So tell me, Time Lord, what would you recommend?"

"Well," he answered heartily, a faux haughtiness in his voice, "I would wholeheartedly urge you to try the shrimp risotto. It is to die for."

"Really? In that case, I simply must have it."

"Smashing, simply smashing." Unable to resist any longer, she burst out laughing, causing him to follow suit.

The rest of the meal proceeded wonderfully, both ordering in the flawless Italian that they didn't know. Jim ordered a bottle of wine for them, declaring that in the worst case scenario, the TARDIS would take advantage of their slightly altered states of mind and drop them off somewhere random as a joke. Not that they'd really get drunk, anyway. It was only one bottle for the two of them, and he was adamant that it took more than that to get a Time Lord wasted. She wasn't quite sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing (she'd always imagined that Jim would be a fun drunk), but she was willing to find out, even if it meant being dumped on a foreign planet because their ship had a sense of humor. Who didn't want to see the stars?

Their food arrived after a while, but that did nothing to hinder their conversation. Everything that came to mind was touched on, from possible pranks to which Tarantino movie was the best. Outer space, aliens and time travel weren't exactly avoided; Pam mentioned how much she loved Back to the Future when childhood movies came up and Jim never missed an opportunity to inform her which celebrities were actually aliens. The conversation just drifted to more normal things before they could get too in-depth about the more out there topics.

Almost two hours after they'd arrived and the addition of a piece of tiramisu, shared between them, later, they left. Wandering aimlessly away from the restaurant, they enjoyed the relative silence and bright stars, not to mention each other. Hands entwined like they'd fall off the earth otherwise, Pam pressed closer to Jim despite the comfortable seventy-something temperature. She couldn't see it, but a wide grin was spreading across his face.

"That was the best Italian I ever had," she quietly gushed, making her date laugh.

"I would hope so," he replied, "seeing as it was authentic." Now she smiled.

"It's not like I have much to compare it to, anyway. Not unless Olive Garden counts." Her smile turned to a small scowl. "And it's not like I got to go there very often, anyway. Roy's idea of Italian romance was me cooking him macaroni and cheese and feeling me up while he watched Goodfellas." Releasing her hand, Jim placed his own on her shoulder, spinning her to look at him as they stopped.

"Forget about that, Pam. Just enjoy yourself, okay? You deserve it. You deserve some real romance, some real fun, and I don't want Roy or his brother getting in the way of that. He's just a footnote in your past." His words were brazenly honest, and she knew they were all true. "Roy never made you happy, and I don't want to ever see you unhappy again. I want to give you the world." He paused, enjoying the smile that was slowly creeping back onto her features. "I want to give you the stars." Glancing up, he motioned for her to do the same. "Choose any star."

Looking back at him warily, she asked, "Any?"

"Any," he repeated, grinning. She smiled, slightly overwhelmed, and turned her back to him, eyes on the stars. For a few seconds, she searched them silently, lost in their endless depths, then raised a finger.

"That one," she said, his eyes moving to it.

"You mean that one?" he asked, pointing to the same area. "The bright one between the small green one and the satellite?"

"You got it." He drew in a long breath, as if calling on a particularly difficult memory.

"That's Tropus, at least by what the people of the nearby planets say. It's a bright orange sun orbiting the planet Lios, and way closer to the planet than our sun."

"So Lios is a hot place, then?"

"Oh yeah. You'll want to dress lightly when we go there." She turned to give him a surprised look, to which he only smiled. "What? I said I'd give you the stars, and I want you to see this one. It's gorgeous during their winter. Temperatures get down to about ninety-nine degrees at night, but everything's still got this orange-y glow because the sun is so close and the planet's got a weird orbit. You really ought to see it." Turning back to the minuscule points of light, she smiled.

"I'd like that," she said, sinking back into his chest.

"Then it's a date," he replied, happiness swelling in his chest. Unseen by the other, they both smiled ear to ear, gazing into the stars. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be standing here with Pam now, he would've laughed at them. After the disaster that was Casino Night, he'd almost given up on this, one what he wanted. He'd moved to Stamford, got a new set of friends, even a girlfriend, and gotten over his heartache. Even after the merger, he and Pam had kept their distance, gotten reacquainted but not close. Somehow, he'd forgotten how good it felt just to be with her, to having her laughing at his jokes and being a co-conspirator against Dwight. Slowly, they'd rebuilt what they'd had, from the moment he agreed to join her Dwight/CIA plot up to the very moment the yogurt gold medal fell out during his interview and he realized where he really wanted to be in ten years. From there, it had been a whirlwind of dates and days, of pranks and one, just one, break up, which involved a lot of yelling, but not on his part, and now he finally had what he'd almost given up on. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he kissed the top of her head.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he whispered. She leaned her head to the side so she could see into his eyes, the honesty shining brightly through them.

"Oh, I think I do," she murmured back, placing a row of kisses along his jaw and down his neck. A shiver escaped his lips before she caught onto his lower one gently with her own. Her nibbles lasted only a second before they became utterly lost in the moment, mouths moving tentatively to one another at first, increasing in passion as the seconds passed. His hands slipped down to her hips almost automatically while hers cupped his cheeks, drawing him impossibly closer. No one on the street seemed to care, or notice, how fierce, how desperate, their kisses had become, all to make up for the years lost to speculation and denial.

By way of the warm, gentle air and vague amounts of alcohol, nothing could break them apart, her hands moving through his hair, which was finally growing longer, and his kisses trailing down her bare neck, eliciting soft moans from the brunette. They were caught in time, planets evolving and dying around them as they found the passion they hardly knew they had, that no one had ever drawn from them before. Only one sound was powerful enough to break them apart: the soft metal whirring that carried in over the wind.

Jerking up suddenly, a dazed look on his face, Jim heard it first. Pam followed his movement, confused at first by the abrupt move and searching his face for a reason why. All she was met with was his furrowed brow and slightly open mouth, brown eyes slowly filling with realization but not understanding.

"What the hell..." he muttered, gaze drifting around until it locked onto one spot. The whirring finally caught her ears as the haze in her mind cleared, and she frowned.

"That sounds like the TARDIS," she stated, glancing up to Jim's stalwart gaze. "Is it?"

"No other engine in existence sounds like that, so unless Jack's fully grew in less than a year or another Time Lord just felt like popping in, it's mine."

"Jack?"

"An old friend," he answered distractedly, watching as the familiar blue box materialized. "What are you doing here?" The quiet inquiry was directed at the box itself, but as far as she knew, he received no real response. As it became fully solid, he ambled over to it, placing a hand on the smooth wooden exterior. The questioning look on his face melted into one of worry. Pam approached him from behind, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Something's happening, isn't it?" He nodded; a small smile broke past her lips. "So go on, Doctor. It's time to do your job." He turned to look at her, a broad, crooked smile adorning his lips and admiration glittering in his eyes.

"When we're done saving the planet, remind me to tell you exactly how much I love you." She grinned.

"Will do. Now come on. The world needs you." Together, they slipped into the ship. Jim immediately launched into flight, Pam helping without question. Within the space of a day, this life had managed to become normal to her. If she had the time to think about it, she probably would've been a little troubled, but right now she was too engrossed in pumping a lever back and forth to really care. The TARDIS already had the necessary coordinates; all it needed was the little push to send the engines roaring forward.

In just a few minutes, they'd arrived, the sound of the engine dying away. Pam rushed to the door, but Jim, not wearing heels, was right behind her. His hand caught her arm, stopping her before she could open the door.

"Slow down," he said. "We don't know what's out there. Let me go first."

"Why? It could kill you just as quickly as me." He smiled lightly.

"Because there's a good chance that me dying isn't quite as permanent as you dying. Besides," he added, voice lower, "I've seen too many people die. I don't want you to become just another on a long list." The sad sincerity in his eyes was more than enough to make her step back and allow him to open the door. He stepped out into a dark room, Pam close behind. An instant mix of confusion and anger crossed his face, while she glanced around. Though she didn't recognize the place, it struck her with an odd wave of familiarity, like she should know it.

Jim, on the other hand, seemed to know exactly where they were, but made no effort to leave his spot or inform her. All he could do was stare at the room around him. At least she could understand that; the room was a downright disaster. Couches were torn apart, chairs broken, tables split in half. A few gaping holes glared audaciously from the walls, and even a beer bottle or two lay smashed in puddles of their previous contents. The patches of unbroken wall were smeared helter-skelter with food, some bits still clinging to the once-white surface.

It looked like they'd already missed the action.

"Where are we?" the young woman asked Jim quietly, not wanting to alert anything that could still be there. "What happened?"

"This is my apartment," he answered, voice low and grim. "And from the look of it, something was looking for me." Pam couldn't suppress the tiny gasp that escaped her. This was Jim's apartment. She'd never been here since he moved back from Stamford; all she knew was that he'd found a new place because Mark had already found a new roommate. She was sure that if it hadn't been in shambles, she would've found it every bit as endearing as his old bedroom. Now, though, it was only cold and frightening, just as the idea that something was looking for him was.

"Correction: someone was looking for your attention," stated a voice as chilling as the room. Oh, god no. She knew that voice, that derisive, arrogant voice. By the way Jim stiffened up, he recognized it too. How could he not? After so many years of pranks, he was even able to imitate it and its owner alarmingly well. Instinctively, he grabbed her hand and turned to face the intruder.

"Dwight, what are you doing here?" Jim drawled, putting on an apathetic expression despite how tense he was. "I told you, I just don't think I'm up for the Battlestar Galactica marathon in Wilkes-Barr tonight. Maybe next time." Dwight's icy glare rested on Jim with unfaltering persistence, but the scruffy haired man refused to waver. She couldn't be sure, but Pam knew at least part of that was the Doctor's influence. From what little Jim had said of his alien friend, it seemed to be in his very nature to be cheeky and unrepentant in the face of danger. It fit Jim well, though she'd never seen him in real danger before. Something about it seemed to bring him to life, to give him this celestial glow and boundless energy that was contagious. It was hard not to get swept up in it.

After what could have been seconds or centuries, Dwight broke the silence.

"Exterminate," he intoned, making Jim sigh.

"Peak of creativity, you are." Dwight's glare refused to relent.

"You will be exterminated."

"Yeah, we get it."

"Exterminate."

"Jesus Christ, just do -" A hand around his throat promptly halted anything he had to say. Dwight's swift movement had been almost imperceptible to Pam's untrained eye, and it made her all the more frightened, though she'd never let it show. It was obviously more than just programming the Daleks had given Dwight - they'd done something to his physical capabilities. He was stronger, faster, and that was dangerous when said of any person, but Dwight especially. He had the appropriate mentality for someone who would abuse any power given to him, and had demonstrated that numerous times. Now, with brute power and a single motivation - "Exterminate" - the situation seemed more volatile than it had in the parking lot.

Jim didn't struggle against his coworker's vice grip, instead standing calmly and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out something thin and silver, about the length of a pencil. Attention so focused on Jim's face, the bespectacled man didn't seem to notice his prey's slight movement, only the minimal tilt of his head toward Pam.

"This might get interesting," he said, calmness betrayed by the eagerness and enthusiasm in his eyes. His demeanor filled her with the strong feeling of being truly alive that she only felt when he was around, not to mention the importance of being trusted fully in such an crucial setting. Of course, the most prominent feeling was of her own heart beating faster as the adrenaline pumped through her body and the urgent excitement it ushered in with it. "As it is," Jim continued, "I'm going to need you to do something for me."

"What?" His eyes glittered dangerously.

"Run!"


	4. Dwightlek IV: Two of a Kind

A/N: Wow, I almost forget this. S'what happens when I get in a rush, I guess. This chapter is where everything really comes together, but there's one more after this. Fortunately, I have about three more episode/serial ideas, plus an idea for a more underlying plot, like each DW season has, so this isn't going anywhere soon. I will be working on my other epic-ish fic, plus a oneshot or two, so updates could be slow. School won't help, either. I'll do my best though. Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

If this trend continued, she was seriously going to have to invest in some cute flats. Heels just weren't cutting it with all the running she seemed to be doing in them.

Despite her minor hindrance, Pam rocketed into the TARDIS before Dwight could even react. She went straight through the console room and into the previously unexplored hall beyond it. Many rooms caught her eye - a kitchen, several bedrooms, even a grand library - but none of them seemed to hold anything of use for their current situation. Two more bedrooms, three locked doors and a multistory wardrobe later, she found a room with a great deal of promise.

It had an air of organized chaos: a few wires hung lazily from wall to wall at different heights, the floor just clean enough to navigate without too much difficulty. Scattered across the few tables were half-built (or half taken apart) pieces of technology, all sizes and shapes, and no two were exactly the same. It wasn't an armory by any means, containing nothing that resembled any weapon she'd ever seen, but that was probably for the best. Killing Dwight would raise a lot of awkward questions at work; incapacitating him was the better of her options, as few as they were. Hopefully, this room had something, anything, that was fully built and non-lethal.

She carefully made her way in, avoiding the wires and dislodged metal plates that littered the floor. After a cursory glance around, the central table seemed to be her best bet, containing mostly finished projects and being fairly clean in comparison to the others. Her eyes and hands moved slowly, deliberately, over these few things, until she came to a small, thin tube, only its silver casing opened up as if someone had been tinkering with it.

Gingerly, she picked it up, realizing that it resembled what Jim had removed from his pocket, only shorter. If he was going to need one, then it couldn't hurt for her to have one either. She pocketed the cylinder, wondering what was happening out there. Jim had told her to run, but now she wasn't sure if she should stay here. He could be in danger. There was no telling what Dwight would do to him.

A new determination filling her, she started back toward the main room. Passing the gargantuan wardrobe on the way, something caught her eye. She paused, fixated on the objects she couldn't quite place. Bending down and brushing away the garish question mark adorned sweater, she couldn't help but smile when she saw what they really were. These would be a great deal of help.

* * *

He watched Pam run away, a satisfied smirk on his face, but his shorter-haired assailant remained stoic. Apparently, nothing could deter him from his primary target, not even the escape of another.

While the situation was intensifying by the moment, Jim still couldn't help but laugh quietly. This whole situation was absurd. They were in his destroyed apartment, Pam hopefully barricading herself away in one of the numerous rooms in the TARDIS, while Dwight held him captive by the throat because he was acting on alien programming. It was somewhere he'd never, ever imagined himself, though he'd always suspected that Dwight wasn't completely human.

That thought was of course unflinchingly hypocritical now, being a strange alien hybrid himself, but the truth and insanity within it all still made him laugh.

"Quiet, Time Lord," Dwight ordered, tightening his grip around his superior's throat. Jim showed no signs of distress, only smiling slightly.

"You can call me the Doctor," he replied cheekily.

"Quiet." Jim wrinkled his nose.

"No can do, I'm afraid. If there's one thing I can really do, it's talk."

"Then you will be exterminated."

"Yeah, figured as much." He smiled. "Unfortunately, it's not going to happen. Sorry." His hand shot up, pressing down the button on the side of the silvery cylinder. The end lit up with a brilliant blue light, accompanied by a loud hum. He aimed it right at Dwight's temple. Less than a heartbeat later, he relinquished his grip on Jim's throat in favor of either side of his head, while the taller man took this opportunity to bolt. He passed the TARDIS, Pam joining him as he did so. On their way to what was left of his front door, he spared her a glance.

"You should be in the TARDIS, away from Dwight," he said, but he couldn't hide the edge of pride in his voice. She glanced over to him, deftly avoiding the twisted wood and metal around his doorway, and gave him a defiant grin.

"We work better together," she replied. "Besides, I found a new pair of Keds in the wardrobe. Couldn't let them go to waste." He looked down at her feet, and sure enough, shining white Keds had replaced her dressy heels. Somehow, they looked much more appropriate and gorgeous on her than the heels ever did. As he looked back up, something else caught his eye: the short, silver tube in her hand. A grin spread across his face, and he wasn't sure if he could be prouder.

"You found my sonic lipstick prototype!" he exclaimed happily. "Of everything, you chose the sonic lipstick. God, how perfect are you?" Despite her confused look, she managed a smile.

"You can tell me all about it later. Right now, you can tell me what it does, how it works and why exactly you have sonic lipstick." Her inquisitive raised eyebrows only made him smile.

"Well, it helps my lips look fuller, and the guys really love it." If they hadn't been running for their lives down the corridor of his apartment building, she would've smacked him, but right now she settled for a disdainful look. "Okay," he relented, "it's just called sonic lipstick because it's smaller than my sonic screwdriver -" He held up the silver tube in his hand. "- and I put a red light on the end. Figure that makes it a bit different. Pretty, too." They reached an elevator, Pam pushing the button rapidly as if it would make a difference. They could hear Dwight's pounding footsteps now, and they probably could have seen him as well if their attention hadn't been so trained on the elevator.

While it took its sweet time, Dwight's footfalls grew closer, a thunderous roar in the otherwise silent hall. The residents were sure to be wondering what the hell was causing such a noise. Pam could almost hear Jim's heart beating, a rhythm so constant she swore there were two going in alternating beats, though she couldn't be sure that it wasn't just her own. The situation was dripping with danger, but it was so exhilarating, so different from sitting at her desk taking calls all day. It was close to what she felt when they played pranks, but it was better and worse at the same time - better because it was ten times the rush, the excitement; worse that her life was actually on the line. It was so worth it, though.

"Oh, finally," Jim all but shouted, pulling her bodily into the now open elevator. She looked around, startled, and caught sight of his lopsided grin. "You wanted to know how the sonic lipstick worked. Time for a crash course." The doors closed, Dwight not twenty feet away, and Jim held up his own sonic tool. "Just point the light at the panel and press the button near the top." His voice was calm and patient, not betraying the anxiety anyone else would be feeling in his position, and his smile refused to falter; she did exactly as he said. The tip burst into bright red life, accompanied by a steady hum that reverberated through the small room. A peppy bing was elicited from the control panel, and Jim's grin widened. "Fantastic."

They could hear Dwight banging on the doors, but the sound grew distant already, the elevator moving downward. He'd certainly head for the stairs as soon as he realized he wasn't making this ride. They'd have to bolt when they got to the ground floor. Until then, they could only wait.

"Great job with the sonic lipstick back there," Jim commented brightly. "You catch on quick."

"Having a good teacher helps," Pam replied.

"Yeah, I am pretty awesome." He paused, shaking his head and smiling sheepishly. "Sorry, the Doctor's kind of arrogant."

"You know, people'll think you're crazy if you keep talking about yourself in third person like that, Doctor." His eyes narrowed, but he grinned nonetheless.

"I'm not arrogant." Under her impassive stare, he amended, "Okay, only when the occasion calls for it." Wanting to avoid the subject of how much the Doctor really permeated his personality now, Jim sharply changed the subject. "Why'd you choose the sonic lipstick, of all the things in the shop?" She shrugged, looking distractedly at the chrome cylinder.

"I saw yours and this looked similar. Non-lethal, too. I'd prefer not killing Dwight. It'd bring up too many weird questions, and Angela would probably kill us. She's crazier than she looks."Jim just laughed, knowing it was true. The blonde was a psychopath in disguise.

"That's my girl. Not killing and rooting out the crazies. Try keeping that up from planet to planet, time to time. It's harder than it sounds, and sometime you can't stop it, but it's never your first option. Killing, I mean. Feel free to find all the nutters you want." They exchanged grins.

"So how exactly did you get away from Dwight?" Pam asked a moment later. If at all possible, Jim's grin got wider.

"Just my handy dandy sonic screwdriver and a bit of luck."

"Oh?"

"I wasn't sure what frequency his programming operated on, or if I could even interrupt it. Obviously I could 'cause here I am." She knew he was being purposely vague, but it was probably better that way. It saved him from going into a long-winded explanation, and her from a headache.

"So you just sonicked his brain and hoped for the best?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "It's not like a sonic blaster or anything. It's not even lethal, unless you're an android. Or an Ann-Droid." She gave him a strange look; he smiled. "One of many stories I'll tell you later. Involves the GameStation, Captain Jack, Rose, a few robots and the Daleks, all in the year 200,100." Her strange look turned to an interested, almost amused, grin. "There are so many stories to tell."

"When we're done deprogramming Dwight and stopping a mass Dalek-human uprising, we can spend a whole day just talking about your universal adventures. Right now, I'd just like to know what a sonic screwdriver - or lipstick - can and can't do."

"I'm not exactly sure," he replied, scratching behind his ear. "I'm not even sure the Doctor knew all of its uses. It's sort of a universal tool. The only things it can't do for sure are open deadlock seals and kill things."

"Unless it's an Ann-Droid."

"Right," he grinned. "Unless it's an Ann-Droid. Other than that, I'm not sure what the extent of its ability is. It can break things, fix 'em, read medical conditions, reprogram technology and draw on resonating frequencies, to name a few. It's usually a fly by the moment sort of thing, anyway, which we're going to be thrown into right about -" The elevator binged, reaching the ground floor, and Jim gave her a smile. "- now." Barely missing the opening doors, the pair burst into the lobby. Dwight wasn't there yet, but they could hear his heavy footsteps coming down the stairwell. They bolted outside, Jim unconsciously taking Pam by the hand as they wove through the cars and landscaping. Their pursuer wasn't far behind, breaking through the plant life without regard to their little green existences.

Emerging onto a busy road, Pam was only saved from barreling into the traffic by Jim's firm grip, deftly moving to her upper arm just seconds before. Scranton was a big town, and on a Friday night, it was exceptionally busy, the traffic providing a dull roar along with its slight lethality. She didn't have time to contemplate her near brush with death, though, seeing as it was still chasing them. Fervently, for that matter.

Again they were running, now down a sidewalk littered with people who stared as the energetic young couple rushed past. She lost track of where they were, only knowing that Dwight was still following them and that meant they had to keep running. Past shops, restaurants and bars, they seemed to go on forever. She knew her legs would be killing her tomorrow, but if she was lucky, Michael wouldn't need her for much. Big if.

Right now though, she was still going, and there was no end in sight. Well, at least not to her eyes.

"Oh, fantastic!" Jim exclaimed, stopping suddenly in front of an older building, barred from public entry. With Dwight closing in on them, he hurriedly wrenched the doors open and pulled her inside. It was a cheerless old place, scant rays of light creeping in and adding to the dreary setting. Pam shivered despite the June warmth, taking in the drab, musty room in all its decrepit glory.

"What's so fantastic about it?" she asked, eyes adjusting to the dim light enough to see debris scattered across the atrium floor.

"There aren't any people here. There's no one to get in the way, no one to get hurt by accident," he answered plainly, eying all the exits and intact objects.

"Except for us." He glanced at her, a sly grin on his face.

"But we're different," he replied with a wink. "Always have been. We can fight back. Speaking of which..." He pulled her down to the floor, a piece of what had been the door careening over them a moment later. Up with a jolt they whipped around to see Dwight standing in the doorway, a malicious glare falling on them. Jim smiled sheepishly, then glanced at her. "Pam, run."

"What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you. Just go, please." Unable to resist the pleading look in his eyes, she reluctantly ran away from them, Dwight choosing that exact moment to spring into action as well. He launched himself at Jim, but the latter was unsurprisingly prepared. Sonic screwdriver aimed right between his coworker's eyes, he pressed the button and a low hum erupted into life. Instantly, Dwight recoiled, hands clutching the sides of his head in a desperate need to rid himself of the sudden and driving pain within. Jim took this opportunity to break away from his frog-like coworker, running as fast as he could in the direction of Pam. She'd already arrived at the rickety elevator at the very end of the hall, frantically pushing the button as if it would suddenly spring to life.

"Jim!" they heard Dwight roar as the scruffy-haired man himself reached Pam, sonic screwdriver out and alive. Like it hadn't been decommissioned for three years, the old style elevator whirred slowly to life, motors breaking through layers of rust to carry the platform down to them. It took what could have been an eternity - seven seconds, actually - but it arrived with a wheeze, just as Dwight descended on them. Hastily, before the doors were fully open, Jim pushed Pam in, not too forcefully, and spun around to catch his coworker's wrist in one hand. With the other, he activated the sonic screwdriver, directing it at the elevator control panel. On command, the doors began to shut; Pam realized this just moments too late.

"Jim!" she shouted, echoing Dwight's exclamation from just seconds earlier, but with a much more frightened, pleading tone. He spared her a backward glance, all smiles.

"Just thought you'd like the view from the roof," he replied jokingly; that quickly fell away in favor of a more serious tone. "Can't have you caught in the crossfire. This could get messy." Like an iPod whose cosmic owner had ADD, his mood changed again, a bright glimmer sparkling in his eyes and a slight upward curve on the edges of his lips. She could see something coming together in his mind. "Don't be gone too long, got it? It's a nice view, but there's work to be done." As the elevator began to move up and out of view, she nodded, watching as he was cut from her vision.

Waiting until she disappeared, Jim turned to give Dwight a wry smirk, still holding the intense man's wrist.

"Down to business, then," he stated, none too seriously. Dwight wordlessly grabbed Jim's free hand, the one holding the sonic screwdriver, and fixed a tense gaze on the taller man. They were now even, Dwight holding one of Jim's hands and vice versa. "Okay, we'll skip the sweet talk, but only this one time. I need some romance, you know."

"Be quiet," Dwight ordered, a very familiar gleam in his eyes; Jim noticed this and smiled.

"What, no 'exterminate'? I'm disappointed, Dwight."

"I said be quiet." Jim sucked in a sharp breath, seeming to contemplate it, then grinned.

"Nah. I'm going to keep talking, because I think there's more going on here. See, your last response wasn't very Dalek-like. I think your programming's dying and that means I can..." Suddenly, Jim let go of Dwight's secured wrist, threw his sonic screwdriver down into his now free hand and raised it to his enemy's eyes. Unfortunately, Dwight's reflexes were better than Jim had anticipated, and because of that, his hand was caught swiftly by his coworker's own, who raised it next to the other captured appendage above Jim's head.

"Want to keep talking, Time Lord?" Dwight sneered, an extra venom in the last two words. Jim was becoming increasingly perplexed, scrutinizing his opposite with a confused intensity.

"You're not possible," he murmured. "How are you doing it? Once it kicks in, your programming should be absolute. What happened to you?" Dwight smirked.

"You did," he stated. "If not for your sonic tool, I would be another slave. Thanks to you, I'm in control. I am Dalek, I am human, and I am neither. I'm better than that. So are you."

"Of course I'm better than that. Anything's better than a Dalek," he scoffed. "I'm better than you no matter what race you are. You might be stronger or faster, but you're definitely not better than most humans out there."

"Oh, but I am, for the reasons you listed and more. We're both better than them, Jim, and you know it. They're just humans, scrambling around, trying not to destroy themselves, but we're so much more. We're the best of humanity without its weaknesses. We know what the universe holds, and we know how it works. The strong rule the weak. We're the strong ones, Jim. We can rule them."

"Never thought I'd see the day when a Dalek offered to rule something with a Time Lord," Jim muttered, and Dwight gave him one of his creepy smiles.

"But that's not all we are. We're better than they ever were. It's why we will survive. We are the best of each race. We're the same, Jim." Jim's eyes narrowed, a look of powerful hatred crossing his face.

"We're nothing alike, Dwight," he spat, fervor brimming in his words. "I want to protect this planet. You just want to rule it. I'm a Time Lord. We're supposed to protect time and space, whether my people saw it or not. You Daleks were created by a madman to do nothing more than destroy. What makes you think we could ever work together when we hate each other so much as humans and as aliens?" Another creepy smile, one that gave Jim the chills despite his own harsh exterior.

"But that was when the two were separate beings. Don't you see Jim? We have to set aside our differences and embrace the destiny that has been set in front of us. The world is ours for the taking. No one could stop us." Jim gave a derisive snort.

"Oh, I doubt that," he retorted. "You'd be surprised by how many humans will fight back against all odds, though you're too Dalek to realize it. The whole race is unbelievably resilient when it comes down to it." The bespectacled man wrinkled his nose.

"You sound fond of the apes," he sneered back, a disgusted curl on the edge of his lip.

"And you aren't? You are one of them, at least partially. You can't deny that."

"And I won't. It is a part of what makes me superior, just as your Time Lord blood does. We are above humans because we are not entirely like them. They are weak and blind to the outside world, but we are not, thanks to our extraterrestrial halves." Jim's face scrunched up as if in thought, and he shook his head. He could tell Dwight was getting annoyed, but he pressed on.

"That's not quite right. See, you're just another Dalek. I'm not just any other Time Lord." A wide, brilliant grin overtook his face. "I'm the Doctor. The Oncoming Storm. Daleks fear me. So should you."

"I do not fear."

"I thought you had control over your Dalek half. That seemed awful Dalek-y to me," Jim jibed, enjoying his captor's intensified look.

"I am in control," he responded evenly, eyes narrowing. "Are you refusing my offer?"

"Only if it still stands."

"Then you will die alongside any other dissenting humans." Jim's smile became a wicked smirk.

"And I'd be proud to be there with them, because if there's one thing I've learned from almost two thousand years of travel, it's that humans are some of the most amazing creatures in the universe. They can make you laugh, cry and want to bang your head against a wall - all at the same time if they're skilled. They can astound you with feats of bravery that no other species would show, and they can break your hearts and all the rules with three simple words. They can survive, for all the stupid things they do. Some are damn clever, too. Like, say, the one with the sonic lipstick pointed at your head right now." Dwight's brow furrowed, following the confusion of the man himself. Jim on the other hand just smiled, eyes flicking over Dwight's shoulder. "Really, for a superhuman, you're pretty oblivious. Now!"

Dwight couldn't react quickly enough as Jim's head fell back, dropping the sonic screwdriver into his open mouth just as a bright red light erupted from behind the spectacled man. Seconds later, with some maneuvering, the blue light of the sonic screwdriver lit up Dwight's face, Jim holding the button down between his teeth. The combined power of two sonic tools resonated with the last dregs of programming, sending Dwight to his knees and setting Jim's hands free. The latter let his arms fall to his sides, one hand catching the screwdriver on the way down and keeping it trained on Dwight. Assured that his former captor was staying down under the steady combination of red and blue light, Jim smiled radiantly at Pam, standing opposite him.

"Have I told you how brilliant you are today?" he asked, unable to contain his delight. Enveloped in his happiness, Pam too beamed.

"Just today?" she replied, eyebrows raised in a failed attempt to look serious.

"Oh, every day. Since the moment I met you. You've always been brilliant," he raved, words spewing from his mouth at a million miles an hour. His eyes shone with giddy triumph.

"So have you," she said, and if Dwight hadn't been writhing on the floor between them, she would've kissed Jim right there. Breaking away from the moment, she actually glanced to the man on the floor. "He's going to be okay, right?" Jim too broke away from his jubilant rapture and looked at his desk neighbor.

"Oh, yeah, of course" he replied passively. "He'll be fine. We just have to keep doing this until the programming's been too scrambled to ever do anything again."

"When will we know when that happens?" Of this, Jim was a little less sure, scratching behind his ear and looking sheepish.

"Probably when he stops moving," he admitted.

"So when he's dead," she replied flatly. His eyes snapped to her, urgent.

"No!" he exclaimed, a little too forcefully. As she cringed, he softened his tone. "No, no, not dead. Just unconscious. The shock of the deprogramming should knock him out. Then we can haul him back to the TARDIS and she can dampen his memories of all this. After that, we can drop him off and he'll think it was all a dream."

"And if that doesn't work?" He gave her a wounded look, which only served in making him look adorable.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked, giving her big puppy eyes. Damn Dwight for being in the way; she would have kissed Jim otherwise. Their coworker seemed to have a knack for being a nuisance, even when indisposed.

"Always," was what she settled for though it hardly lived up to what she imagined. His grin began to make up for it, though.

"Good. If that doesn't work, I'll come up with something. It will work, though. The TARDIS hasn't failed me yet." The flailing noise beneath them finally died away signaling Dwight's departure from consciousness. Jim looked down at their former attacker. "It's about time. Let's get him back to the TARDIS." He bent down to pick up the prone man, but Pam just gave him an incredulous look.

"We're going to carry Dwight the six-plus blocks back to your apartment, up the elevator and down your never-ending hallway, all without collapsing or drawing the attention of, say, the police?" At least he had the good grace to look a bit embarrassed by how ridiculous it sounded.

"When you put it that way..." he muttered, a small smile on his lips. "I guess I could just call her to me." Pam matched his smile.

"That sounds much better. I've had my fill of insane exercise for the week." He raised an eyebrow.

"Out of shape, are we Beesly?" She rolled her eyes.

"Sorry that cross-city sprints and all but jumping down fire escapes aren't in my everyday regimen." He grinned.

"I figured that's how you got back down here." He paused, glancing at her appraisingly. "That is how you got down here, right?" She nodded, and he breathed a small sigh of relief. "Good. I was worried you'd try to climb down a gutter if there weren't any fire escapes."

"And if I couldn't get back down?"

"Ah, you would've reworked the elevator to come back down sooner or later."

"By then Dwight probably would have signed you up for his new world order," Pam said lightly, jokingly, but not without a serious undertone. Jim caught this, eyes glancing into the distance as he smiled thinly.

"Yeah, I don't think I'll ever understand him. As humans, we barely get along. As aliens, we're out to kill each other. I don't know where he got the idea we could ever work together just because we're both freaky hybrids. That's where our similarities end." He sounded confident in that, but she could tell he didn't believe it as much as he projected he did. What Dwight had said had troubled him. Taking a breath, she breached the subject quietly.

"I heard what Dwight said."

"Pam, I -" he started but she held up her free hand.

"Let me talk," she stated firmly, looking straight into his eyes. "Maybe he's right; maybe you don't know who you are yet. But I do. I know you, alien or not. Maybe you've got a bit of the Doctor patched here or there onto you, but you're still Jim. You're still the man I love. So what if you're a little bit more arrogant, or you suddenly have a thing for bananas? None of that changes who you really are." She smiled.

"You said it yourself: you're the new Doctor with a new face and a new personality, but it's your face, your personality. Maybe you have to be the Doctor for the universe, but you can be Jim for you. You can be Jim for _me_."

And before she really knew what she was doing she stepped to her boyfriend, Dwight be damned, and took his face into her hands, pulling him into a deep kiss.


	5. Dwightlek V: New Beginnings

A/N: Thanks for being patient. Life can be insane sometimes. This one wraps up the first serial, but there are at least half a dozen more to come. For the record, I've made a few cosmetic changes to the first two chapters - mostly forgotten words and clunky sentences. I've only made one noticeable change: Jim and Pam are no longer a known couple around the office. I'm only doing this to put the fic in continuity. You'll see why later. Try to prove all of this never happened. I dare you. Oh, and enjoy!

Also, I'm sorry if you like mimes.

* * *

Despite his initial surprise, Jim let himself relax into the kiss, arms moving to Pam's waist. Her hands went to his hair without a thought, weaving through it like she would float away otherwise. Gently, boldly, he parted her lips with his own, tongue moving in exploratorily. They'd done this before, more times than he could count, but he wanted to remember every detail of today, down to the way her mouth tasted - vaguely fruity, like the wine from the restaurant.

Her tongue followed his example, moving with the same hunger her kisses contained; she wanted to take in everything about his mouth. God knows she'd spent enough time looking at it in the past few years. Now she wanted to feel it, every inch of it.

He pulled her almost flush to his body, enjoying the intoxicating closeness. Time seemed to stand still as their mouths moved fiercely against one another, neither wanting to break apart for fear that they'd never get another moment like this. Maybe it was the insanity of their situation that necessitated an equally odd ending or just the sheer joy of facing their first alien threat and still being alive, but the passion seemed be a dire need right now.

Reluctantly, they eventually came apart, mostly for the need oxygen presented, faces flushed and grinning like loons.

"So, um, Dwight?" Pam shakily ventured, not taking her eyes off Jim. He gazed dazedly at her, registering her words a moment later.

"Oh, right, right. Our comatose Dalek." He smiled vaguely, eyes drifting to Dwight to assure that he was, in fact, still unconscious. He was. "Okay, we should probably get him back to the TARDIS now." Twirling the sonic screwdriver between his fingers, he held up the silver tube, emitting a short pulse of blue light to summon the ship. Almost instantly, a familiar grinding filled the derelict room, accompanied by a pulsing light hovering midair. After a few wheezes, the strange ship's outline had appeared just to Jim's right, and in another few, it was fully materialized. Pam must have had a look of awe on her face, even after what she'd already seen, because Jim gave her a bemused grin.

"C'mon, Beesly. You've been chased across town by your alien coworker with your alien boyfriend, and that still amazes you? I haven't even taken you off-planet yet." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not all of us are frequent flyers in outer space, Doctor. Some of us still think a ship that just appears is pretty cool." Snark dissipating, she grinned at him. "Lucky for you. Now, let's get him in there before we have to phase his brain again."

"Sonic," he corrected. "Sonic his brain again." Under her stalwart gaze, he sighed and bent down to help her hoist their coworker up. Tall blue doors opening on their own, they made the slow journey up to the center of the ship before setting him down as gently as they could. Hurriedly at the console, Jim worked the seemingly random buttons while Pam leaned against a bar, waiting for him to work his magic.

The dematerialization sequence began, age-old gears grating into life and producing a sound that was quickly becoming a comfort to the young receptionist. She watched as Jim twisted bars and wiggled handles, still not even sure how he could find all of them. The console was such a mess, a seemingly random arrangement of levers, wheels, buttons and the like, but he worked every piece with skill.

Really, it was amazing when he got into it like this. He was like a whole other person, and yet he was so himself. It was something he was truly interested in, and that was when he really came alive. She was beginning to think that this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Well, aside from them finally getting together. She wasn't trying to be conceited, but it easily was the best thing that had ever happened for either of them. This was still a close second. Something about the adventure suited him in a way selling paper never could.

"It's about time!" he exclaimed suddenly, breaking her train of thought. When she looked up, he was reading a display on the console and chuckling quietly to himself. "Literally, too. Finally realized I'm still the Doctor, eh? Just a new person, like any other regeneration." She hadn't noticed it before, but the TARDIS maintained a low hum at all times, and now it sounded annoyed. Jim mimicked the expression. "Oh, don't give me that. You know you love me." It hummed a bit quieter, almost resignedly. "Yeah, I know. I'm just glad we're okay now." He patted the console affectionately, and Pam raised an eyebrow.

"Are you talking to the TARDIS?" she asked. He smiled back broadly.

"Yeah. She's as alive as you or I. The only completely green vehicle you'll see for decades," he joked. "She's finally warmed up to me. Realized I'm still her Doctor, more or less, and that means she's letting us time travel now. I think our little fiasco with the Dwight-lek impressed her."

"And she's going to dampen his memories, right? Because it won't be good if he remembers that you're an alien with a space ship and that he's out to kill you." Glancing up at the ceiling, he raised his eyebrows and addressed the TARDIS.

"Well, are you?" She hummed pleasantly; he smiled. "Good. I've set up everything properly, so you can do it whenever you're ready," he stated, adding with a sanguine smile, "Preferably soon." Humming in cheerful acquiescence, a bright golden light arced from the console to Dwight's forehead, casting strange shadows around them. Within seconds, it had disappeared, leaving only the unconscious Dwight on the floor, seemingly unchanged. Jim smiling broadly, though, as it had obviously worked. That just left one question in Pam's mind.

"You know where he lives, right?"

Suddenly, his smile fell.

"No, I don't." He scratched behind his ear, if only for lack of a better thing to do. "That should be a good thing, too, but not today. Weird." Despite that, he smiled. "But that's okay. The TARDIS can get it from him." The ship hummed happily in response, making Jim's smile wider. "See? She got it already. Let's go," he added heartily.

Pam smiled, the sound of the engines whirring in the background, and crossed over to the captain's chair situated in front of the handrails, hoisting herself up the few feet to rest on its creamy leather. For a few minutes, neither said anything; Pam simply rested, all the running catching up with her. Jim fiddled with the controls distractedly, making sure the flux levels remained steady. He kept a small mallet handy just in case.

When they reached the Schrute farm, they quietly carried him out, trying not to wake his cousin Mose. Drawing the attention of someone who was apparently more socially disturbed than Dwight (from what the bespectacled man had said of him) was not very high on either of their 'To Do' lists. It was late at night–technically _very_ early morning–on the same night they'd left that they'd decided to drop him off. That stopped any thought of him interfering with his timeline or theirs, and a memory gap of an hour or two wouldn't hurt his idea that it was all a strange dream. Leaving him under his porch, clutching an empty bottle of whiskey, was just a fun touch for their benefit.

Back in the TARDIS, once they'd both settled back in and were on their way to Pam's apartment, she asked the burning question, the one that had been plaguing her since they first broke apart from the kiss. Whether she knew it or not, he had been wondering the same thing.

"So that's it, then?" It was a soft query, and she didn't try meet his gaze, playing with a loose string on the seat instead. "That's the end of our adventure. Tomorrow we're just Dunder-Mifflinites again." He was taken aback by how sad and vulnerable she sounded; he hadn't realized how much she enjoyed this. His eyes remained firmly on the controls, which he toggled with absently.

"Yeah, I guess so," he ceded after a moment. "Our little run-in with a stray Dalek pawn is over." His eyes brightened considerably, jumping to her with zeal. "But this doesn't have to be the end for us. You can come with me. We'll find adventure all on our own. Prince, planet, puppy–_something_ always needs help. We can do it together." Eyes dropping, his optimism faded and he became a bit more reserved. "I mean, if you want to." She smiled lightly.

"I'd love that," she replied, finally looking to him, and his smile tripled. "We'll go to Lios first, right? To relax after all of this." He nodded, meeting her shining eyes

"Of course. I can't promise trouble won't find us, though," he added with relish. "It usually does."

"I'll take what I can get." He beamed at her, flux levels forgotten. Thankfully, they were nowhere near critical.

"Great. Bring something cool to change into to work tomorrow, then. We'll go as soon as the day's over." He glanced over at the console, which was currently spouting the creaks and groans one usually associated with a house settling, and smiled. Their eves again met, his containing a repressed sort of glee. She could tell he was resisting the urge to jump around in joy, but she knew he'd probably do it as soon as she left, anyway. He toggled with a few switches, then smiled up at her.

"Well, Miss Beesly, I do believe this is your stop." Ears perking up, she realized the engines had finished grinding their way through the time/space continuum. She felt sad that, in a way, this was over, but that was overshadowed by the feeling that this was just the beginning. Jumping up from her seat, she let Jim escort her to the doors. For a moment, she stopped to look at him.

"I had a lovely time," she said.

His eyes sparkled as he replied, "Even being chased for your life?" She laughed softly, cracking a grin.

"Especially being chased for my life. It was way more exciting that any date I've ever been on before."

"I aim to please." She raised a saucy eyebrow.

"Oh, I bet you do." Without waiting for his response, she planted a kiss, chaste but underlined by passion, on his lips and left, grinning coyly all the way. Yes, this was definitely just the beginning.

* * *

It took him less than a minute to regain his senses, but a good portion of that almost-minute was dedicated to watching her leave. She was still entrancing to watch after all these years; he couldn't help himself.

When his senses finally returned, he all but forcefully made himself look away, shutting the door as a bit of self-help. Like a released spring, he was back at the console, flipping switches and hitting things with the small rubber hammer he always kept handy. He wasn't sure it really helped, but the Doctor kept reassuring him that it couldn't hurt.

Even as he worked away, his mind was racing–Pam had agreed to come with him–he had an idea for a prank on Dwight–Pam wanted to come with him--he was hungry, even after dinner--Pam wanted to come with him!--a banana sounded good–oh, the places he'd show her!–yes, he'd have a banana.

Pursuing that last thought, he let the TARDIS hover in the Time Vortex while he went to search the kitchen for bananas, plot against Dwight and generally marvel.

* * *

Pam walked into work the next day with an extra 'pep in her step,' as Phyllis would note. The idea of going to an alien planet after work made the whole day seem so much more bearable, and more than a little surreal.

Jim carried the same vigor, arriving five minutes before nine with an irrepressible smile on his face. After he hung up his overcoat, he made his mandatory stop at reception.

"Morning," he said, grinning ear to ear. "You brought cool clothes?"

"Of course." If it was possible, his grin widened.

"Fantastic. When the clock hits five, we're outta here." He smiled brightly at her, pulling a jelly bean from the selection. "In the mean time, I'd keep my eyes open if I were you." She raised an interested eyebrow.

"Thanks for the advice. I'll keep it in mind. Just for the record, is there any one thing I should be watching for?" He grinned roguishly.

"You'll see." No further explanation, he sat down, slinging his messenger bag and suit jacket over the back of his chair as he did so. With a cheerful smile on her lips, Pam went back to her typing and waited for Dwight to show up–this undoubtedly included him.

Precisely on time, down to the very moment her computer's clock struck nine-double-oh, Dwight strode in, a familiar scowl plastered on his face. This morning, though, he seemed unusually dour and disheveled, as if he'd just lost a fistfight. He hung up his coat and made his way to his desk, as per usual, but Pam noticed that Jim had ceased typing, now simply staring at his desk neighbor with perfectly faked awe. To anyone else, it would've seemed genuine, but as a seasoned watcher of Jim (that sounded vaguely stalkerish even as she thought it), she knew he was only pretending. She saw his awed face often enough–usually when Michael did something no other human being alive would do or say on purpose–to know when he was faking it.

As the shorter man settled into his desk, Jim kept staring, shaking his head in wonder. It took a moment, but as he finally became situated, Dwight noticed his coworker's actions.

"What are you doing?" he asked flatly. Jim just let out a long, low breath.

"Nothing. It's just... You are truly amazing." Dwight smirked with pride.

"Thank you." His eyes narrowed a second later, smirk falling away like a boulder dropped from an airplane. "Why?"

"You don't remember?" He laughed quietly. "No, you wouldn't. I don't blame you. We did have one crazy night."

"What exactly did we do?" Dwight asked suspiciously, instantly distrustful of any sentence uttered by Jim that included the word 'we.'

Jim took a moment to look thoughtful, then answered, "Before or after the bar brawl with that gang of mimes?"

"Before."

"We went out for drinks to celebrate the–what'd you call it? Solstice?"

"The Summer Solstice was two weeks ago, Jim." Dwight was close to buying into it, whether he knew it or not; Jim had a sixth sense for this sort of thing. He held his hands up innocently, knowing it would just take a bit more.

"Hey, I'm not the one who wanted to celebrate it. I'm just saying, we went out, you had at least thirteen shots–I lost count--of some foreign drink, and then we got kicked out because you threw that pool cue into the tv. That's when you got into a fight with that group of mimes." Dwight, the perennial freak he was, seemed proud of this, sitting up a little straighter with that disturbing smirk on his lips.

"Mimes are just criminals in makeup and berets. I'm sure he deserved it." The conviction in his words told Jim all he needed to know; he had Dwight now, hook, line and sinker. Leaning in closer, Dwight added, "What else happened?" Suppressing a smile, Jim looked Dwight straight in the eyes.

"Oh man, after that? It's sort of a blur." He pretended to think for a moment, but he knew exactly what he was going to say. "I think that's when we burned down the Forbidden Planet." If there was one thing he could say that would completely affront his coworker's inherent geekiness, that was it; Dwight seemed completely blindsided and horrified.

"I would never do that," he muttered, but he didn't sound like he believed himself.

"Well, you mentioned something about a Crylon-"

"Cylon."

"-mask right before you lit the match."

"Oh god." Dwight's eyes were clouded with something akin to what Terror and Regret's child would look like, and for a moment, Jim wondered if what he was doing was right. He had this moment from time to time when he was pranking Dwight; now, he only had to remember that last night his stern coworker had tried to kill him. That pretty much killed any doubts he had.

Amidst his thoughts, he heard the frantic clicks of his desk neighbor typing, and he did his best to restrain a smile. In just a moment, Dwight would open the Forbidden Planet website, first on his favorites list, and find the fake front page Jim had set up, bright red letters openly stating that there had been a terrible tragedy the previous night and that they would be closed for an unknown period of time.

Then the bespectacled man would go to his second favorite, a larger news site, and check the headlines; one would sadly declare that an unidentified man in glasses had been seen outside the Forbidden Planet just minutes before it had mysteriously caught fire.

Any moment now.

"...Oh my God."

And there it was. Standing up, he patted Dwight on the shoulder consolingly, gesturing to Pam ever so slightly to follow him. She saw the small movement and trailed him into the break room, waiting for the door to shut before breaking into a huge grin.

"Did you see the look on his face? I mean, fighting mimes wasn't enough–how'd you even know he hated them?"

"Good guess."

"But burning down the Forbidden Planet... That's like his Mecca. Thinking it's gone and it's his fault might just break him." Jim pursed his lips, then shook his head.

"Nah. He's stronger than that. Besides, he'll find out eventually." He beamed at her, moving to push a few coins into the pop machine and choosing a flavor. "Not that I'm quite done with him yet."

"There's more?" If at all possible, his grin brightened as he picked up his soda from the bottom of the machine.

"Oh yeah. There's definitely more, but not just for Dwight." Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a key on a long silver chain. It was so much like every other key she'd seen, as if made for any other car or home in existence, but something about it was different. Ancient energy rolled off the small bronze key in waves; she could barely hear a light humming, soothing and serene.

"What is it?" she murmured, almost transfixed by such a simple piece of tarnished metal. He smiled at her.

"You feel it, don't you?" he asked. "The huons coming off this thing. You don't know what they are, but you can feel something, can't you?" She nodded, spellbound.

"I can hear humming, Jim. Humming and..." She paused, closing her eyes and focusing. "...singing. I can hear singing." Her eyes shot open. "Why can I hear singing?" He grinned dazzlingly at her.

"Because you've connected with the TARDIS! She likes you. That's her, you know, the singing. It's the Time Vortex flowing through her, and you can hear it through the key." What he didn't mention was that hearing singing was something only a handful of companions could boast; it was reserved for those especially in tune with the ship and/or her Time Lord. No two heard the exact same voice, either, but a Time Lord could always hear it, the pure Vortex whispering in their minds.

"And the key is..."

"A key to the TARDIS. It's got a little bit of the Vortex forged into it, so she'll respond to it if you need her. It really does work as a key, too, in case you ever need to get in or keep someone out. Every companion needs one." She gave him a wry smile.

"So I'm official, then? The TARDIS likes me, you like me, I'm going to see the stars?" He grinned; she had a way of putting things that always had that effect on him.

"Yep. You officially have a second home in the TARDIS." He proffered the key and she took it, pulling him into a tight hug.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," she whispered, and he breathed her scent in, not wanting to break apart.

"I dunno. Right here's pretty nice," he replied; she laughed. Before she could respond, a loud shriek burst from the main office, sending the couple apart in surprise. For a moment, Jim tensed, conditioned by many years of hearing such screams, but he relaxed as he registered that voice. A broad grin spread across his face and Pam raised an eyebrow.

"That's the 'more,' I suppose?"

"You bet."

"And what would it be?" He grinned devilishly.

"Oh, I'm willing to bet Dwight just found the severed finger in his top drawer."

"Not real, right?" She didn't even want to think about where he'd find a real severed finger, and a human one at that.

"No, of course not. Just a _really_ good replica." He held out his hand. In the background, they could hear the excitable shouts as their little show progressed. "Wanna go see what's going on?" She grinned.

"You know it," she replied, and took his hand for the first of many times.


	6. Life I: New and Old

A/N: Sorry this update took so long. Between school and work, I haven't had much free time, but I have written out two entire chapters (as rough drafts) and part of a third, not to mention an outline for this particular serial. I don't think any of you realize just how big that is. (Michael: That's what she said.) I never write outlines. I've always worked with my vague understanding of the plot and whatever immediately comes to mind. This story requires much more planning than I'd ever imagined, though, if only to organize my random epiphanies and timelines. I think this serial's going to be a lot of fun, though. It includes three of my favorite things (one of which I can't mention without spoiling the plot.) Anyway, I really hope you enjoy it, because I certainly know I will.

* * *

"Why do they always try to kill us?" Pam asked rhetorically, flopping onto the captain's chair. Working the controls as best as he could, Jim shrugged.

"How was I supposed to know he was their king? He wasn't wearing the customary knickers," he shot back, more than a little sheepish. "Besides, we're fine now." She raised her eyebrows.

"Fine? They nearly burnt us at the stake, Jim! On what planet does that constitute as fine?" Now he smiled, twisting a knob while pushing a lever on the other side of the console with his foot.

"Well, on Argres, during the winter festivals..." he trailed.

"Smart aleck."

"Always," he replied cheerily. "You get used to it, anyway."

"The being burnt alive or just the constant threat of a slow and painful death because you accidentally mistook a king for a commoner and violated a cardinal social law?"

He paused for a moment, seemingly deep in thought, and then answered, "Both." He grinned over his shoulder at her, working the mishmash assortment of controls expertly. She just shook her head at him, wrinkling her nose as she caught a whiff of her clothing.

"I reek," she said, the scent of wood smoke lingering in her nose. Sure, it was nice for a fall barbeque, but not when it only brought up memories of almost becoming the barbeque. She had to get rid of it now, or it'd be all she smelled for a week. "I'm going to go change." Standing up, she left the console room to Jim's assurance that he'd be around the TARDIS, which wasn't all that reassuring. The halls wound like a labyrinth, except that a labyrinth usually had some sort of rhyme or reason. As far as she could tell, the corridors shifted as need be, usually by the will of the TARDIS herself. The ship was compliant with her passengers' needs, for the most part, unless she was making a point or playing around. But things were often where they were supposed to be, at least according to the general layout Pam had become accustomed to.

Down the hall, out of the console room, were two immediate rooms: a full bathroom and a library, both one of many. Go a bit further down and to the left, and you found their bedroom, another bathroom, a living room, a two-story closet, an art studio, the lab she had found the sonic lipstick in and a small medical room. If you went to the right, you came upon a kitchen, two bedrooms, a library, a dining hall, a half-bathroom, a roller disco and a garden filled entirely with topiary shrubs. Follow either of those halls on in the many ways they branched off and you'd find, in no particular order (she was less familiar with these rooms the deeper in she got), more than thirty more bedrooms (she'd lost count somewhere between the second or third kitchen and an aviary), a cloister, three more libraries, a room Jim had called the Zero Room, six gardens, one of which was devoted solely to bananas and celery, a batting cage, another lab, three doors which refused to open, a small movie theater, four bathrooms, a pool, a laundry room and what seemed to be a candy store. Needless to say, she didn't make her way back there very often.

She made it to their bedroom without any trouble of the directional or life-threatening sort, which was a refreshing change after going out for smoothies and almost dying. Looking back on it now, it was still just as terrifying, but there was a little bit of excitement, too, as she was reminded of by the steadily fading adrenalin high. It was surprisingly easy to get used to, all the running around and nearly being flame broiled. She didn't think it'd ever get less exciting, but she could live with that. Fancy New Beesly liked some excitement, anyway.

It was hard to believe it had only been a week since he saved her in the office parking lot and this all began. Going by the long way, as Jim called it, only four days had passed at work, but with all the time spent on other planets, in other times, or just in the Vortex, it had been more than a week. They always came back to their lives, mostly to rest after an adventure-filled day or two on a slew of planets, but also because leaving the normalcy completely behind would be hard. They both had families and lives that they weren't about to abandon, no matter how thrilling the galaxy was.

Still, even their regular lives had changed. Nothing at work carried the same depressing, soul-sucking weight it once had, but a new, listlessness-lite version of it. It was nice knowing they could escape the fluorescents after five and see some real sun in a sixteenth century summer. Her clothing choices, whether for work, a date or just hanging around and doing nothing, now had to do more than just be comfortable and look good; she had to be able to run, jump, swing, tackle and do the whole assortment of things she never thought she'd have to do in them. The reality of how different things were becoming only truly hit her a few days after their trip to Lios. A simple trip to a bazaar on Terschia had gone completely awry, ending with their madcap dash back to the TARDIS to escape the flurry of icy arrows. It was only after they'd safely dematerialized that he'd posed the question.

* * *

"_So, you think we ought to pop back into our lives, maybe work a day or two?" he posed, playing mindlessly with the console. The TARDIS hummed pleasantly, floating aimlessly in the Vortex while they rested._

"_How long have we been doing this?" she asked, mentally trying to tally the numbers. It was hard to keep track of time between interplanetary gallivanting and wandering around the ship. She was beginning to learn the layout, but she knew there was still so much more to it, and she liked to explore. So far, she could easily find two bathrooms, her bedroom, a library and a kitchen._

_Jim wasn't going to miss the beat when it came to time, though._

"_Two days, fifteen hours, twenty-seven minutes and thirty-three seconds," he stated without batting an eyelash. Admittedly, these random bursts were still a bit weird to her, but she knew it was just the Doctor shining through. "Forty-six seconds now, Beesly." She glanced up at him, eyebrows pushing together._

"_And you're sure we can go right back to the night we left?" His lips twitched with a smile._

"_I show you the far reaches of the galaxy, times unseen by modern eyes, and you want to know if I can land in the proper time?"_

_She raised her eyebrows._

"_I was nearly flash-fried on our first off-planet trip because you accidentally landed in a Liosian summer instead of winter."_

"_It was at night."_

"_It was over a thousand degrees out there."_

"_One thousand and fourteen point two," he replied, earning himself an uninterested look. With a small smile on his lips, he put his arm around her waist and added, "Besides, what's a life without adventure?"_

"_Not ours, that's for sure." Unable to keep up the sore facade with him, she gave him a smile to match his own. "I would like to stop by my place, though. It'd be nice to pick up some more clothes if we're really going to be doing this for a few days at a time." Knowingly, he nodded._

"_Yeah, you'll want to grab your own stuff. I've never got an exact list of everything in the wardrobe, but I know some of it is pretty strange. Having your own clothes will be nice, anyway." She smiled._

"_If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to sit down with my boyfriend and watch a movie, too."_

"_What, is the real thing not enough for you?" he replied, pretending to be hurt. "Is this really so boring that you need stylized Hollywood action as a substitute?" She rolled her eyes, cracking a smile._

"_I'd just like to spend a quiet night on Earth, not fearing for my life, if that's alright with you. C'mon," she cajoled. "We can go back to you place, rent a bad action flick and eat popcorn." Despite her smile, he didn't seem as enthused, though not for an apparent lack of trying; she was quickly frowning. "What's wrong?" He shook his head._

"_Nothing. It's just–I'm not exactly getting my deposit back, am I?" Pam's eyes widened with realization._

"_Did Dwight really do that much damage?" Lips pursed, he nodded._

"_Tore the doors off the hinges, broke all the appliances, threw food all over the walls and carpet, and basically did everything he could to ruin the place. Needless to say, the truth wouldn't exactly fly, so I just told the building manager that a bunch of my friends got drunk and invaded the place. I'm lucky she likes me, otherwise I could be facing charges. She just wants me out by the end of the week." Her eyes widened as he spoke, mouth slightly open. _

"_Oh god, Jim–I'm so sorry. If I hadn't–"_ _He shook his head._

"_It's not your fault."_

"_But I'm the–"_

"_It is not your fault," he stated authoritatively. "This kind of trouble just follows me around."_ _At least she could appreciate that. In their few days exploring space and time, they'd managed to find more trouble than either had in their whole prior lives._

"_But where are you going to stay now?" she asked worriedly. He only grinned._

"_I figure I'll park her on a rooftop one night, maybe a street corner the next," he replied, patting the console affectionately._

"_But won't she get noticed?"_

"_Nah. She has perception filters. Humans see what they want to see, and look over what they don't, especially if they don't expect it to be there, and a perception filter helps promote that." She nodded; the concept made sense, even if there was a good chance the science behind it would liquify her brain. Still, a section of her mind, somewhere between normal Pam and Fancy New Beesly, was taking hold, and it had an idea of its own. A shy smile grew on her lips, eyes drifting to the other side of the room as the words tumbled out of her mouth._

"_You know, if you wanted to, you could park her at my place. I have a spare bedroom that's big enough for the TARDIS. Then you could still live in her if you wanted to, but you wouldn't have to worry about being in the open, filters or not. And you could always come into my place if you wanted out for a while or if you ran out of food or something. I have a comfy bed, too. I mean," she hastily added, confidence fading as a blush crept onto her cheeks, "if you want to. If you don't, it won't hurt my feelings." He stared at her with raised eyebrows; she could feel it._

"_I'd love that," he answered without hesitation. Her eyes snapped to him, surprised. What she saw wasn't the shock she'd expected, but a huge grin engulfing his features. And a little shock behind his eyes, but not too much; he was getting used to a bolder Pam._ _Her subsequent smile could only possibly be outshone_ _by the one she'd displayed after Jim had asked her out, and even then it would've been a close competition. To say that it was brilliant was an understatement; it possessed a luminescence all its own, warming him wholly like only the heart of the TARDIS could._

"_Great," she said, eyes never leaving his. "Then let's go home."_

* * *

Though it seemed like ages ago, and not the week-plus-some that it had been, the very thought of it still filled her with happiness. Jim and the TARDIS now peacefully resided in her apartment, the former sharing her bed each night they stayed, utilizing of the wide array of services it offered. It had been a short jump from there to sharing one bedroom on the ship, and the TARDIS didn't argue. It meant a happy Doctor and one less file on her mainframe.

Going too quickly had crossed both of their minds, but it was dismissed on both counts. Considering how long they'd been dancing around each other in the ballroom of friends that could be so much more, a month and a half was more than enough. Now that they had finally gotten the timing right, they wanted to enjoy everything about it.

Meandering to the closet within the bedroom, she pulled off her t-shirt and grabbed a new one, almost amazed by how frighteningly easy her life had fallen into this order. She wondered if it would ever become mundane, and then they landed on a new planet and found new trouble, and she found her answer. This was her life, this sundry, ever-changing life of distant stars and hostile aliens, with the occasional friendly group that wasn't out to conquer the world through macadamia nuts.

They spent day or two puddle-jumping the universe, maybe a bit of rest in the Time Vortex or her apartment, a couple days of working, and then it was back to the beginning. Itchy feet, thanks to the Doctor, ensured that they never stayed in one place for too long. Two days on the slow path seemed like torture to him, and adding work on top of it made it double punishment.

Still, with well-established lives like theirs, they couldn't just abandon everything. People would notice them, or at least her, returning forty, fifty years older. Pretenses had to be upheld.

It wasn't all bad anyway, she thought as she looked between her pairs of jeans. The days seemed a lot more bearable when she knew they were going to seem a movie on Trivecta IV afterward, and the TARDIS was being good to them. She always popped in just after they had left, which was an apparent rarity for her. Jim mentioned overshooting their destination twelve hours short of a year once, forcing him to explain to his companion's mother where they had been for the missing year.

When she'd asked why they couldn't just go back and make up that year, he'd explained something about establishing a personal timeline within an area and not being able to interfere with his own history unless he wanted to deal with major paradoxes. That made sense to her, really; time didn't work like it did in Back to the Future, no matter how interesting it was. Changing an event sort of ripped time open, unless it was a natural change caused by extraordinary events. Just because she understood it, didn't mean her brain didn't hurt thinking about it, though.

Slipping into a pair of comfy jeans, which happened to be very good for running away from giant bee men in (she wondered what the company would think of that testimonial), she exited the bedroom and made her way to the console room. Jim was still there, effectively doing the same thing he had been, just in a different place with different controls. When she entered, he looked up, smiling.

"So home?" he proposed again, fiddling with some dials as he looked her over. Even in jeans and a t-shirt, she looked amazing. This life really brought out her true radiance, something the artificial light sucked out of her.

She grinned at him.

"That sounds great. My own bed would be nice tonight." Jim grinned slyly.

"It _is _pretty comfortable."

"Feather top."

"Doesn't squeak too much."

"I change the oil every three thousand miles."

"But I think my favorite part is the company. Warm, doesn't wiggle, likes to curl up next to me."

"So you sleep with a dog."

"Far from it. The most gorgeous girl in the universe shares a bed with me." Already controlling her laughter as best as she could, a smile broke across her features, making it even harder not to laugh.

"She must be one lucky girl."

"And I'm one lucky guy. Took me a long time to get a hold of her, and I'm not letting go any time soon." A blush crept across her cheeks, tinging the edges of her smile a rosy pink.

"I don't think she's going anytime soon, either. She knows a good thing when she sees it, even if it takes a while." He pulled her closer, an arm around her waist and a smile on his lips.

"Good, because I don't think I'm willing to let go." Leaning in, he met her lips with his own, a steady pressure meeting between the two. Fires burned in that space, so infinitesimal in the scope of the universe, and all the room they needed right now. It lasted only a moment, but if they had anything, it was an endless supply of time for more moments like that. Pulling back, Pam smiled without control, lost in the dregs of fire still on her lips.

"So," she started, "home?" Smile matching hers, he nodded.

"If we can ever get around to it, yeah." His arms moved from her waist back to the console, resting on handles and knobs. She drifted back wordlessly, content to let him work his magic with the ship. He moved around the controls in his unpredictable pattern, only stopping to look at her, a twinkle in his eyes. "You know, you could always sell your place and live in the TARDIS full time. You could even get homelessness benefits." She wrinkled her nose, making a face.

"Ugh, and be like Creed? Don't think I haven't noticed that he's always the last one to leave a few nights every week, or that he keeps an inflatable mattress under his desk. No thank you. I'll stick with the two homes I have now." He gave her a playful shrug.

"If you want to, I guess. I just thought you were open to new ideas." Now she was smiling, a bright, toothy grin full of mischief.

"Of all people, you should know how open I am. Unless you forgot what happened under the Freyallite eclipse..." Oh, he was grinning now.

"How could I forget? I was never quite sure what the qwi'mrok was until we landed under that cycle. I mean... wow." Eyebrows waggling, she smiled.

"Oh yeah. I think you get my point." As if listening in for the right moment, the TARDIS shook violently, sending the couple tumbling. Jim managed to hastily pull himself up to the console from the floor, pulling a display his way.

"What the..." he muttered, eyebrows knitting together. Another quake racked the ship, sending previously liberated pieces of machinery to the floor, but this time Jim and Pam were prepared. Jim clutched the console with all his strength; Pam wrapped her arms around the closest metal banister and held on for dear life. The engines were at full power now, whirring away madly.

As the more violent rocking passed, the pair did their best to stand up amidst the uneven tremors, and Pam looked up at Jim quizzically.

"What's going on? Some sort of turbulence in time-space?" she asked, a slight joking tone to her voice. Something like this had happened to them once before, tossing them to the garden planet Malir. What had began as a nice, if not accidental, trip to the amazing botanical zoos had quickly devolved into busting an illegal drug organization that was growing Vraxoin in the 'closed' exhibits, culminating with her hanging off the bottom of an escaping ship and Jim being held upside-down by the organization's guards, who turned out to be living plants. It had all been fine in the end, as she was finding out it usually was, but the thrill of the moment was enough to make you think you weren't going to get out of this one. Never once did she believe there wasn't a way out, though. She believed in Jim and his ability to pull through.

Battening down for another round of rumbling, Jim smiled slightly as he stretched to pull a lever down.

"Sort of like turbulence, yeah. The fabric of time-space isn't always smooth. It's got bumps and potholes like any other road. This, though," he added, "this is a bit different. The Time Vortex actually seems to be pulling us somewhere on it's own." She furrowed her brow.

"Does that happen often?"

"Oh, from time to time," he replied, slamming a few buttons and levers down. Instantly, the cabin stopped shaking, lowering instead to a minor vibration. She joined him at the console, eyes on a screen that swirled with circles and curlicues, the only script the TARDIS wouldn't translate for her. Gallifreyan, Jim had said, the writing of the Time Lords.

"Are we there?" she asked.

"Yeah," was his simple response.

"So where is 'there?'" His eyebrows knitted together, glancing to the monitor.

"Chicago, 4694. We're in a small park a block off of Michigan Avenue." He turned to look at her, smiling brilliantly. "Want to go check it out?" A smile to match his adorned her features.

"Absolutely I do." Taking her hand, Jim whisked her out of the ship and into the city. Warm light hit their faces as they stepped out onto the well-kept grass, still damp with the last bit of morning dew. The sun streamed between the buildings, casting a bright glow on the metallic structures. Pam had never been to Chicago–Roy wasn't big on traveling–but from what she'd seen, it hadn't changed much in two and a half thousand years. The buildings were a few hundred feet taller and infinitely more futuristic, but the layout seemed the same. Tall peaks poked around the shorter buildings, some of which were still dizzying heights. Store fronts lined the roads, advertising almost everything she could think of, and few she couldn't. People populated the sidewalks, unfazed by the apparent rush of everyone else and the assortment of sounds that resounded between the weathered but majestic buildings. The biggest difference had to be the cars racing above them, stopping sporadically under some unseen influence.

Jim smiled at Pam as she marveled at the looming city around them. He'd forgotten how stunned companions could be by their own future. It was all old news to him; he knew how and when Earth ended, but they didn't. They still carried the awe of where their civilization would be in two, three, four thousand years. Seeing them so happy over something he considered so trivial made him happy too.

"Are you going to stare all day, or do you want to explore and find out why we're here?" he asked, squeezing her hand. This seemed to wake her up, as she smiled at him.

"It'll find us, won't it? It always does, somehow." Tilting his head in acknowledgment of the truth, he smiled, and she continued. "I think we should wander around until it finds us. Until then, I vote we get something to eat. We never got to finish our meals, seeing as we were being chased off by the King's guard."

"Good times," he murmured fondly, eyes drifting across the sky until they fell back on her. "Well, I s'pose you have a point. Those xeracakes weren't very filling, anyway." He smiled, eyes flashing with excitement. "C'mon. If I'm right, and I usually am, there's a great café down the road if you'd like to go."

"I'd be delighted." Trying their best not to trample the foliage, they made their way out of the park and onto the busy sidewalk. Being midmorning, the streets were filled with all sorts of beings making their morning commute. Pam felt out of place very suddenly, dressed in a jacket, tank top and jeans like many women from her time would be. On alien planets, dressing like this was fine because she was already alien. When surrounded by other humans, most dressed in ways starkly different from her own, she felt awkward.

Sensing her discomfort, Jim squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry about it. Lots of people now dress like you do. They just think of it as classical."

"So I'm a relic now," she muttered as they started walking. "Great." He laughed, placing a kiss on top of her head.

"It's not like that. Fashion is different now. As long as you like it and it works on you, people generally don't care." Worries eased, she quirked an eyebrow and deftly avoided a strange woman with orange eyes coming the opposite way on the crosswalk.

"Someone's been brushing up on their Cosmo," she joked. "I'm impressed." He smiled, shrugging.

"Just a basic knowledge of history. The Individual Revolution was a big event. A bunch of people got tired of being told what and who to look like, so they launched a campaign to bring down the unrealistic ideals of the fashion industry once and for all. In the end, they won over the public and ushered in a new age of acceptance. Nowadays it's okay to be who you want to be, from a member of the cult of Cthulhu to a pansexual that'll hit on anything with a biosign. 'Course, that means that Jack isn't quite as unique in his own time as he is in ours, especially after three hundred more years of progress. In our time, though... Poor Cardiff never saw it coming." He smiled reminiscently, and Pam raised an eyebrow.

"This Jack guy seems to be a big part of the Doctor's past," she commented. "Feel free to tell me who he is any time." Stopping, Jim winked.

"How about while we eat?" he proposed, nodding his head toward the building they'd stopped in front of. She smiled.

"I think I can manage that." Hand in hand, they entered the café, a cozy room packed with random tables and chairs. The only light was from the rising sun, but it lit things up well enough. Jim expertly made his way to the back, guiding Pam through the eclectic sets of furniture with ease. As he ordered breakfast for the both of them (he knew what she liked), she glanced around the comfy establishment. A few patrons sat here and there, one behind a newspaper with moving pictures, another gently sipping tea while staring out the window. Hand-painted pictures adorned the walls, no real rhyme or reason to their themes like the rest of the café. It seemed like the sort of place she could get used to.

"How long has it been here?" she asked as he picked up their plates, giving their mugs of coffee a weary look. Distractedly, she grabbed them and followed him to a nice green table in the front corner. Setting the food down, he smiled at her.

"About four hundred and seventy-eight years," he answered plainly. "Should be here at least another two thousand and fifteen, if I remember right." At her slightly amazed look, he simply shrugged. "What? Popular places can last forever. You should see the Mall of America these days."

"Maybe we can go there sometime. Imagine the Nordstrom shoe sales," she said, garnering a shudder from him.

"I'll take the King's guard any day, thank you." She laughed, crunching into a piece of bacon.

"So who's this Captain Jack?" she asked after a moment. "He sounds interesting."

"To say the least," he chuckled. "He was a 51st century con man we met back in the London Blitz. Joined up with us until the incident with the Bad Wolf." His eyes dimmed a bit, remembering this sad past that was and wasn't his. "Went to work for Torchwood for a while after that, then helped Martha and I with some trouble which will technically never happen. We did a lot together throughout the universe. He's great with gun–you should see where he can hide one–and clever too. More of an action man than the Doctor usually. A real flirt, too. If it moved, he was all over it. Probably one of the flirtier types, even for his century."

"You forgot devilishly handsome," a smooth voice added from behind Jim. Pam looked up to see a tall man behind her boyfriend, smiling to show his dazzlingly perfect teeth. In fact, everything about him seemed perfect–sculpted body, angled cheekbones, black hair that wasn't long like Jim's, but not crew cut, either, twinkling eyes, disarming smile–everything screamed 'I make women swoon without even trying.' Pam imagined he'd make a good subject to draw.

Turning to his old friend, Jim beamed.

"Good to see you, Jack. How long's it been?" Jack raised an eyebrow, still smiling.

"In this body or just chronologically? Because I think I met the fourth you while guarding someone on the starship Empress. Didn't talk to you, of course. Can't interfere with timelines." Jim nodded.

"What'd you think of the scarf?"

"A little gaudy, but it worked well on you then." He winked. "Would've been long enough to tie you to a bed with." Smile breaking past her lips, Pam saw what Jim meant when he said that Jack was a flirt.

"And in this incarnation?"

"Some time back in the 37th century." It was Jim's turn to raise his eyebrows.

"So this isn't the first time we've met, I guess," he said. "I mean, you obviously know who I am. You wouldn't chat up a total stranger like this. Well, you would but not like this, like we are now. That'd just be weird." Jack grinned, a sparkle in his eyes.

"You're right, this isn't our first time," he said coyly. "That was somewhere on the fourth moon of Rycin in the third century. Finally got around to buying you that drink." Pam, eyes wide, looked between the two guys for signs of deception. Jack smiled normally, while Jim kept stoic; Pam blinked away the sudden onslaught of images flooding her mind, despite the fact that they were sort of hot. That was still just_ too_ weird, whether he looked like Jim or not.

"Anyway..." the brunet man finally interjected, none too obviously. "This isn't the first time you've met me as me." Jack nodded.

"Pam too," he replied, finally acknowledging her. "Lovely choice, by the way. I always like seeing you find a good companion. Even better when she's dateable, too." He looked to her, grinning and holding out his hand. "Hi. Captain Jack Harkness, all yours." Pam shook his hand, but he pulled it closer for a kiss on the back; Jim snorted at both the gesture and Jack's last statement.

"He's all yours until something else living goes by," he muttered, not without good humor. Jack just smiled.

"Why limit myself? A guy's gotta keep his options open," he replied, nonchalant. "I imagined I'd see you here, though. This whole thing seems right up your alley." Jim leaned closer to the man, brow furrowed.

"What thing?" Now it was Jack's turn to furrow.

"Wait, you don't know why you're here?" Jim shook his head, and Jack took a seat, setting down the tray of coffees he'd been holding.

"We were actually heading home for a while, but the TARDIS pulled us here. We figured we'd have breakfast before trouble came calling." Jim's eyes lit up. "What exactly is happening here? And what are you doing here? I thought you were sort of a permanent fixture for Torchwood."

"Still am. I'm here to pick up coffee for my team. With no Ianto, coffee's sort of become my duty. Can't brew it quite like he could, though. The team's in Chicago on security detail for a Kerfaldan scientist who's here for the big conference this weekend. I assumed that's why you were here too." While Pam watched them interact, she munched on her breakfast, just as curious as Jim was.

"A big conference? Huh. Some sort of scientific breakthrough or something, right?" he posed, an inquisitive look in his eyes. "I don't remember anything special from this year, but I can't remember everything, can I?" Jack raised his eyebrows.

"Since when? You've always been a know-it-all." Jim shrugged at his old friend's brazenness.

"Gimme a break. I'm getting old, you know." Jack snorted, derisive.

"You're old?" he asked rhetorically. "My two thousand, eight hundred and fiftieth birthday is this year. Don't tell me you're old." After everything, Pam broke in now.

"Are you really that old?" Jack nodded. "So you're an alien, then. You look really human, though."

"It's because I am," he replied, smiling proudly. "Born and raised in the Boeshane Peninsula. One hundred percent pure grade human, at least as human as a human could be in the 51st century." Pam accepted this, already knowing that humans spread across the universe as soon as they could, intermingling with more than a few races along the way.

"Is that why you're so old?"

"Nope," he said simply. "My long life and enduring good looks are a gift from an old friend. It's all that I have left of her, so I don't think of it as a curse anymore." His voice was somber now, eyes downcast like Jim's. "If I concentrate, I can feel that golden little thread of her inside me, and then I knew she's never really gone, no matter how dead they said she was or how gone she eventually became." At Pam's questioning look, Jack just shook his head. "You and the Doctor started traveling in July 2007, right?" She nodded. "Well, something big happened earlier that month. You'll probably never hear about it from your government–they're very good about covering this stuff up, no matter how bumbling they seem sometimes–but it took away many loved ones. She was one of them."

"But she's so very alive," Jim interjected. "Just not in our time, on this Earth."

"At least you finally found her," Jack said. "The universe couldn't keep you apart forever." Jim gave a small smile.

"I know." He looked at Pam. "You should have seen his–my–grin when she finally walked back onto the TARDIS." He sighed. "Best day of my lives." Pam smiled sardonically.

"Thanks," she replied dryly. "Good to know I'm important." He leaned across the table and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"You are important," he said. "You're important to me. It's just hard keeping the Doctor and Jim separate sometimes. He knows you're the most important girl in the universe to me, but she'll always be his soul mate. I know how he felt about her, can feel what he felt for her, but I feel the same way for you. You just have to bare with me. Trying to be separate from and one with the Doctor is hard. Weird, too."

"Weird is fine. Life would be boring without weird," she said, smiling.

"Amen," Jack added. "Without weird, I wouldn't be here right now."

"Which brings us full circle," Jim said. "What's this big science conference about? Warp 31 engines aren't due for another few years, and that big ruckus about the cure for the common cold-completely fake, by the way," he added for Pam's benefit, "was a couple of years back, so what is it?" Jack grinned.

"That's the thing. No one will say anything. Everyone has a theory, but there's nothing official. All we have to go on it that it'll change the view of death forever." Jim sucked in a long breath through pursed lips, leaning back in his chair.

"That's never good."

"Why?" Pam asked. "It sounds exciting."

"Oh, I don't doubt it will be," Jim replied, "but for all the wrong reasons. Whenever someone says they're going to change something forever, bad things happen. Forever is too long a time for a single change to endure."

"Don't bad things just follow you around?"

"No matter where I go," Jim answered cheerily. "Trouble knows where to find me. Doesn't matter where I go–parallel universes, E-Space, JC Penney's–it's always there. Makes life interesting, you can't deny that." Both Pam and Jack nodded, knowing full well that traveling with the Doctor automatically made life an adventure. One step into the TARDIS and suddenly Perafolan warlords were chasing you down and you didn't stop running from there. "And where would we all be without that bit of trouble?"

"Answering phones for a dead-end company."

"Conning more civilizations to death, and dead by now." Jim nodded vaguely.

"I'd be selling paper and not really making any difference," he added. "Trouble's what brings us together, pulls us apart and binds us forever." He grinned a thousand watts, standing up. "What do you say we go find it? Jack here's obviously our sign that something's going on." Grinning, Pam and Jack joined him in seeking the inevitable, breakfasts forgotten. They forged their way confidently out of the building, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk as Jim did. For a moment, he only glanced around, then, scratching the back of his head resignedly, asked, "Where exactly are we headed?"

* * *

P.S.: I've just realized how much I write Jim and Pam kissing. Huh. Probably some deep-seated emotional issue, but I'm going to blame it on how little we see it in-show. Yeah, that's the ticket.

P.P.S.: Also, sorry for the lack of action. It was getting long (Michael: That's what she said) and I'm getting tired, plus it's at a good ending point. I promise more action later.


End file.
